83  W2. 


ilifornia 

ional 

lity 


REMINISCENCES  OF 


RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  TO  THE 


IF1.   IB. 


war ;  many  of  them  having  been  scribbled  on  the 
limber  chest  of  a  12-pound  Napoleon ;  many  in  the 
trenches — others,  more  fortunate,  had  the  honor  of 
taking  a  position  in  a  lady's  album,  and  perhaps  have 
elicited  a  smile  or  a  thought  (precious  gems,  alas,  fugi 
tive  as  all  sublunary  happiness!)  from  some  virginal 
soul. 

The  author  does  not  publish  for  the  purpose  of  making 
himself  immortal— he  knows  better.  He  knows  what 
his  poems  are  worth,  and  gives  them  to  his  friends 
as  such ;  to  revive  pleasant  reminiscences  and  old 
associations,  many  of  them  asked  him  to  publish  this 
work.  He  hesitated,  reflected,  and  confident  that  it 
could  do  no  harm,  and  that  some  kind  and  tried  friends 
would  be  pleased,  he  took  this  step  without  timidity  or 
shame,  notwithstanding  all  the  dangers  attendant  upon 
a  tramp  into  the  heights  of  Parnassus,  where  critics 
(those  birds  of  prey  who  feed  upon  the  carcasses  of 
feeble  writers)  are  most  ferocious  as  they  are  hungri 
est,  and  are  hungry  and  cruel  in  reverse  ratio  to  the 
square  of  their  brains. 

As  will  be  seen,  each  poem  is  dated  from  its  birth 
place,  and  appreciation  must  be  made  of  time  and 
place.  What  could  be  said  then,  it  might  not  be  expe 
dient  to  utter  now. 

The  author  takes  this  occasion  also  to  thank  the  kind 
friends  that  have  helped  him  in  this  undertaking,  wish 
ing  them  all  the  happiness  that  a  poet  can  dream,  or 
that  lovers  aspire  to— (which  is  the  greatest?) 


WAR  FLOWERS. 


DOTJBT, 

A   POEM. 

'Twas  night— I  dreamt — but  not  the  empty  dreams 

That  smooth  the  brow  in  the  ambrosial  sleep 

Of  balmy  innocence,  vain  counterfeits 

Of  shadows  unrevealed  to  the  awakening  eye, — 

Awake  I  dreamt,  and  in  my  dream  methought 

That  on  the  edge  I  stood  of  th'  awful  deep, 

The  tempest's  home,  uproar's  wild  domicil, 

Where  ever  raged  the  billow's  foaming  crests 

Like  snow-capped  mounts  and  howled  the  wintry  blasts 

In  never  ceasing  might — still  unappeased ! 

There  lightning  spread  its  robe  of  lurid  light 
And  thunder  groaned  in  night's  dark  womb, 
And  on  the  breast  of  day,  if  such  be  day 
Whose  unavailing  light  no  comfort  brings, 
No  sun  with  genial  rays  to  warm  the  soul, 
But  whose  dim  twilight  to  the  eye  presents 
A  novel  scene,  though  oftentimes  beheld, 
Of  fearful  sights  and  things  of  evil  bode ! 


8  WAR     FLOWERS. 

And  that  it  brings  the  happy  truths 

And  placid  joys  along ; 
Those  who  have  spoken  thus  knew  not 

The  tyrant's  many  wiles, 
With  what  fond  hopes  it  lulls  the  heart. 

With  what  deceit  beguiles ! 
Ah !  trust  them  not  and  keep  your  souls 

From  logic's  shackles  free, 
For  reason  is  not  on  the  earth 

What  reason  ought  to  be ! 

Have  Faith ;  believe  that  high  Jehovah 

Rules  the  tempest  wild, 
And  smooths  the  heaven's  angry  brow 

With  breath  of  angels  mild, 
With  awe  and  trembling  hear  the  voice 

Of  rumbling  thunder  near, 
For  'tis  th'  avenging  anger  of  a  God 

That  strikes  the  ear, 
But  read  thou  not  within  the  page 

Of  scientific  lore 
That  thunder  is  a  thing  of  naught 

Born  in  the  clouds,  a  roar 
Of  mortals'  slave,  a  fluid  thrall, 

A  bright  and  harmless  glare 
That  rushes  for  its  equipoise 

Across  resisting  air ! 


WAR    FLOWERS. 

Behold  the  rainbow's  many  colored 

Garments  in  the  skies  ; 
Believe  it  an  archangel's  robe 

Dipped  in  the  heavenly  dyes, 
But  learn  thou  not  in  useless  books 

That  all  the  fairy  hues 
That  teach  the  poet  how  to  sing, 

The  dreamer  how  to  muse, 
Are  nothing  but  the  phantom  sight, 

And  combination  vain 
Of  sunny  rays  that  meet  and  color 

Falling  drops  of  rain ! 

Oh,  live  for  love,  that  precious  scented 

Flower  of  the  soul ! 
For  Faith  with  holy  finger 

Pointing  to  the  heavenly  goal ; 
For  Hope,  the  white  and  rosy  winged 

Messenger  of  bliss ; 
For  sun  and  light,  for  stars  and  dews 

And  virtue's  loveliness ! 
Beneath  the  firm  embrace  of  friendship 

Let  your  bosom  heave  ; 
Oh !  never  doubt,  but  let  your  mind. 

Though  stricken,  still  believe, — 
Give  nurture  to  the  healthful  thoughts 

Of  radiating  glory ; 
Love  the  green  trees,  the  singing  birds?. 


10  WAR     FLOWERS. 

The  rocks  sublime  and  hoary, 
And  giving  o'er  your  kindly  souls 

To  sweet  credulity ; 
Keep  on  your  child-like  eyes  the  fold 
Of  blind  simplicity ! 

Like  unto  yours  my  youthful  mind 

Believed  in  earth's  great  names, 
And  drank  deceitful  drafts  of  hope 

And  fed  ambitious  aims  : 
But  on  an  angry  night  the  specter 

Doubt,  with  cruel  force, 
Wide  oped  the  gate  that  shut  my  heart 

And  blew  his  breathings  hoarse. 
Then  like  the  yellow  leaves  that  fall 

Before  the  northern  breath, 
My  dear  illusions  fell,  my  soul 

Was  tenantless  as  death ! 

My  mind  is  dark  e'en  as  the  bosom 
Of  a  stormy  sea, 

My  soul  has  shrieked  upon  the  winds 
/ 

Its  cry  of  agony, 

And  waves  of  anguish  dash  together 

In  my  frenzied  brain, 
For  Doubt  with  traitorous  stroke  hath  cleft 

My  bleeding  heart  in  twain ! 


WAR   FLOWERS.  11 

Oh,  God,  who  rideth  on  the  wings 

Of  whirlwinds  in  the  night, 
Whose  voice  speaks  in  the  thunder  cloud — 

Great  king  of  Infinite ! 
Have  pity — send  thy  thunderbolt 

Within  my  soul  benighted  ; 
Illume  it  with  the  light  of  Faith, 

Restore  my  hopes  all  blighted  ; 
And  even  if  in  crushing  down  my  doubts 

Your  lightning  blest 
Restore  to  former  nothingness  and  dust 

My  aching  breast, 
If  that  alone  may  from  this  hell 

Obtain  my  soul's  release — 
Oh  strike,  Jehovah,  and  with  deatli 

Send  your  eternal  peace ! 


Thus  spoke  the  voice,  fresh  'twas  and  musical. 

And  as  the  wailing  sounds  struck  on  my  ear 

That  told  it  to  my  soul,  my  heart  within  me  broke. 

To  think  that  such  enormous  misery 

Could  find  a  place  within  one  human  heart — 

And  my  soul  wondered  how  a  thing  of  naught, 

Void  of  all  substance,  incorporeal, 

A  doubt,  which  is  not  even  a  denial 

Of  some  great  truth,  could  carry  with  it 

Pains  of  such  extent. 


12  WAR    FLOWERS. 

Then  in  my  dream 
A  voice  unearthly  spoke  and  said  : 

"Oh  man, 

'•  "Pis  not  reality  pales  the  suffering  brow, 
"  Or  sinks  the  cheek,  or  dims  the  eye, 
"  So  much  as  vision— and  'tis  not  the  stroke  of  Fate 
"  That  cleaves  the  heart — It  is  our  very  soul 
"  That  suicidal  turns  against  itself 
"\The  cruel  sword  of  headlong  destiny 
'•  By  mad  reflection.    Doubt  is  but  its  offspring — 
"  A  bastard  child,  who,  maddened  by  the  stain 
''  That  blots  its  birth,  unnatural  and  cold. 
"  When  once  admitted  to  an  humble  share 
"  Of  Mind's  inheritance,  aspires  to  the  whole — 
"  And,  aided  by  the  wiles  of  sophistry, 
"  Poisons  the  soul  with  reason's  drugged  wine— 
"  A  dangerous  beverage— till  the  frenzied  soul, 
"  Abused  and  drunk  with  mortal  prejudice, 
"  Drives  weeping  Faith,  with  cruel  mockery. 
"  From  out  the  unwilling  portals  of  the  heart! 
"  And  then  there  naught  remains  but  chaos  in  the  mind. 
••And  contradictions,  like  opposing  winds. 
"  'Twixt  right  and  wrong  buffet  the  weary  soul. 
-  Whose  only  refuge  then  lies  in  the  grave  !v 

******* 
All  was  again  as  black  and  still  as  Night ! 


WAR   FLOWERS.  13 

SO3VC*  OV   THE  C.   R.'S  OK1  M. 

Am — "  Villikins  and  his  Dinah." 

Our  motto  is  fun,  and  though  dark  be  the  hour 
His  heart  is  a  craven's  who  lets  it  go  sour  ; 
We're  a  laughing  and  devilish  set  of  good  fellows. 
And  we  dance  in  the  tempest  like  storm-drunken  billows! 

Let  the  statesman  be  dull  and  the  tradesman  be  staid 
Who  know  not  the  pleasures  of  fight  and  parade  ; 
But  the  fearless  and  dauntless  are  thoughtless  and  gay. 
And  the  clowns  of  the  night  are  the  braves  of  the  day 

God  smiles  at  the  pranks  of  our  well  meaning  youth, 
For  a  latigh  is  a  thanksgiving  flowing  with  truth — 
If  life  is  a  farce,  let  us  joke  from  the  start, 
And  the  louder  the  laugh  the  more  honest  the  heart ! 

When  Noah,  the  first  of  the  C.  R.'s  of  M, 
Came  forth  from  the  ark  with  a  cough  and  a  hem, 
God  pitied  the  fellow  and  sent  him  the  vine, 
Which  gives  drinking  an  origin  surely  divine ! 

Then  let  us  be  merry  as  long  as  we  can, 
The  wisest  of  men  say  that  life  is  a  span, 
If  indeed  'tis  so  short,  let's  enjoy  every  hour, 
The  sweetest,  of  scent  is  the  shortest  lived  flower ! 


14  WAR     FLOWER?. 

Genius  is  naught  but  excitement  refined,— 
A  good  joke  is  worth  all  the  poets  combined — 
'Tis  the  flash  of  the  spirit,  the  light  of  the  soul 
That  sparkles  like  generous  wine  in  the  bowl ! 

Then  give  me  broad,  grinning  and  jocular  faces, 
And  the  man  who  will  laugh  in  all  possible  cases  ; 
Such  a  one  would  I  trust  with  my  money,  my  life. 
And  had  I  the  fortune  to  have  one,  my  wife ! 

Then  here:s  to  the  merry,  the  thoughtless  and  gay, 
Who  can  sing  like  the  birds  and  look  bright  as  the  day. 
And  here's  to  the  girls,  may  their  eyes  never  fade, 
Till  the  last  torch  is  burnt  out  of  life's  masquerade! 

Chorus— Sing  fol  de  rol,  fol  de  rol  day. 
WILLIAMSBURO,  Va..  March  4th.  1862. 


WAR  FLOWERS.  15 

THE 


It  stood  upon  the  bridge  of  sighs, 
A  wooden  bench  of  common  size. 

But  full  of  grace. 
For  lovers  who  revere  the  moon, 
And  always  part,  alas  !  too  soon, 

A  trysting  place. 

How  beautiful  it  was  at  night. 
iSilvered  by  Cynthia's  bleaching  light, 

To  see  two  lovers 
Plighting  their  faith  in  secret  bliss. 
And  hear,  perchance,  a  fleeting  kiss 

Escape  these  rovers  ! 

There  sparkled  many  a  gay  flirtation. 
At  sixty  paces  from  the  station. 

'Twixt  love  and  glory. 

There  vows  were  made  that  ne'er  were  cashed. 
As  'fore  th'  admiring  maidens  ."  flashed 

The  red  artillery!  " 

*This  bench  was  romantically  situated  on  a  bridge  over  the 
Tangipaho,  at  Chattawa,  Mississippi,  on  the  New  Orleans  and  Jack 
son  Railroad,  where  the  author  spent  some  very  pleasant  days 
while  recovering  from  a  wound  received  in  Virginia.  Many  of  his 
friends,  more  fortunate,  [?]  were  wounded  there,  but  in  the  heart, 
and  never  recovered,  having  been  imprudent  enough  to  apply  for 
a  cure  to  Dr.  Hymen,  who  made  a  chronic  disease  of  the  sweet 
sufferings  of  these  rash  ones. 


16  WAR     FLOWERS. 

But  ah !  alas  for  human  bliss, 

There's  always  something  goes  amiss — 

The  bench  was  broke ! 
Artillerists  cried  and  maidens  wept, 
And  mutual  happiness  was  swept 

By  the  sad  stroke ! 

High  jumped  the  squirrels  at  the  sound 
At  "  squirrel  point,"  then  gazed  around, 

And  looked  so  grave ! 
Then  madly  dived  th"  astonished  coolers* 
Like  flying  youths  from  angry  tutors, 

Beneath  the  wave ! 

Then  sighed  the  breeze  in  ''  lovers  lane  " 
Nor  did  the  weeping  clouds  refrain 

In  tears  to  flow  ; 

Then  groaned  in  anguish  your  bright  waters, 
Mourned  for  the  grief  of  your  sweet  daughters. 

Tangipaho ! 

And  now  no  more  the  conscript  gasses, 
Nor  stares  upon  the  train  that  passes. 

Nor  cries  hurrah ! 

The  bench  is  broke,  thy  conscripts  gone. 
Th'  artillerists  too  and  thou  art  lone. 

Oh  Chattawa ! 
CHA-TTAWA,  August,  1862. 

*Oooters — a  fancy  name  for  Tangipaho  turtles,  derived  from  the 
natives. 


WAR     FLOWERS.  17 


It  is  pleasant  to  meet  with  a  sunshiny  beam 

In  the  days  of  ungentle  December  — 
In  the  darkness  of  night  it  is  pleasant  to  dream 

Of  things  that  we  love  to  remember. 

You  have  shone  like  a  ray  beaming  beauteous  and  bright 
O'er  the  stream  where  my  happiness  anchored, 

And  unlike  the  great  Roman  who  reveled  in  fight, 
I  have  come,  I  have  seen,  you  have  conquered! 

But  what  boots  it?    1  go  and  will  pass  like  the  wind 

That  sighs  near  a  lair  lady's  bower  ; 
More  happy  these  lines,  they  will  rest  in  your  mind. 

A  bud  of  remembrance's  flower  ! 
BATON  Roros,  September  l(i.  1SC.2. 


THE    "BOUQUET   13E 

A  BALLAD,  DEDICATED  TO  MISS  j** 

She  stepped  within  the  lighted  hall, 
And  dimmed  the  lesser  beauties  all, 

That  filled  the  place. 
So  dazzling  was  her  youthful  mien, 
That  all  at  once  did  vote  her  queen 

Of  love  and  grace ! 

o 


18  WAR     FLOWERS. 

Her  snrile.s  like  beams  from  heaven  fell- 
She  looked  so  sweet,  that  hall  room  belle, 

And  so  vivacious, 

One  would  have  thought  she  was  a  fairy, 
llor  form  appeared  so  light  and  airy, 

Her  air  so  gracious! 

Her  hair  entranced  th'  admiring  crowds. 
Her  eyes  were  dark  as  thunder  clouds 

That  flash  forth  fire  ; 
And  he  who  says  she  did  not  dance 
Like  Fanny  Ellsler.  wilh  my  lance 

I'll  prove  a  liar! 

In  her  soft  grasp  of  alabaster 

The  envious  eyes  of  belles  that  past  her 

Saw  a  boquet, 

Where  fairest  flowers  each  did  vie, 
Which  should  enchant  th?  admiring  eye 

Of  gallants  gay. 

Soon  every  soldier  in  the  hall 
Went  to  this  beauty  of  the  ball 

To  run  his  chance, 
This  for  a  word,  that  for  a  smile. 
Or  look  that  would  a  saint  beguile. 

That,  for  a  dance. 


\VAR    FLOWERS.  19 

One  there  was,  prone  to  contemplation, 
Who,  losing  time  in  admiration 

Of  this  great  wonder, 
(For  he  had  lost  his  manly  heart,) 
Came  somewhat  late  to  get  his  part 

Of  general  plunder. 

He  was  a  youth  whom  none  remarked — 
On  his  poor  ship  there  had  embarked 

Nor  fame  nor  power ; 
His  hopes  and  joys  all  being  blasted, 
He  lived  to  think  that  no  bliss  lasted 

More  than  an  hour. 

Once  he  had  loved  and  was  forsaken. 
His  dreams  were  all  one  by  one  taken 

From  him  away ; 

He  lived  with  those  who  did  not  know  him. 
And  did  not  think  the  year  could  show  him 

One  happy  day ! 

Yet  he  could  dance,  and  even  sing, 
And  he  could  make  a  table  ring 

With  merry  laugh. 
But  in  his  soul  was  such  a  whim, 
That  all  those  pleasures  were  to  him 

As  so  much  chaff. 


20  WAR    FLOWE&S. 

Enthusiastic  in  bis  youth, 

He  thought  that  all  in  life  was  truth, 

But,  by  and  by, 

When  he  had  seen  the  world,  he  knew 
That  all  those  things  lie  thought  were  true. 

Were  all  a  lie. 

Bliss  was  a  dream  of  fairy  land, 
Friendship  a  word  upon  the  sand. 

And  love  was  naught 
Save  a  day  dream  of  infancy, 
A  ticket  at  the  play,  I  fancy, 

Too  dearly  bought ! 

In  fact,  he  thought,  this  poor  young  man. 
That  bootless  was  the  race  he  ran 

In  this  wide  world  ; 
That  not  a  thing  was  worth  the  while, 
Therefore  he  marched  thro'  life's  defile 

With  banners  furled. 

He  was  not  pale,  that  youth,  I  ween, 
Nor  was  he  made,  (from  what  I've  seen,) 

To  cut  a  dash, 

His  eyes  were  bluish  gray,  his  hair 
Was  dark,  his  upper  lip  did  wear 

A  black  mustache. 


WAR  FLOWERS. 

He  was  a  soldier  and  had  served, 
But  never  had  his  fortune  swerved, 

Except  for  evil, 

And  yet  his  mind  had  settled  down, 
So  that  he  cared  for  smile,  nor  frown, 

For  saint,  nor  devil  ! 

Yet  when  approached  the  dark-eyed  maid. 
This  youth,  enraptured,  half  betrayed 

A  strong  emotion  ; 
In  him  it  was  a  wondrous  thing, 
Which  nothing  from  his  soul  could  wring 

But  love's  devotion. 

And  oh !  that  maiden  smiled  so  sweetly, 
And  gazed  upon  him  so  discreetly, 

With  such  an  eye ! 

That,  though  but  one  quadrille  he  got, 
And  that  the  sixth,  his  soul  forgot 

Its  misery. 

:Twas  then  confessed  her  supreme  power. 
He  waited  for  the  midnight  hour 

With  sighing  breast. 
And  in  the  dance,  his  ardent  gazes 
Saw  none  but  her  amid  its  mazes. 

And  shunned  the  rest. 


22  WAR    FLOWERS. 

And  she,  upon  her  knight's  devotion 
With  heart  of  angel  took  compassion. 

The  dark-eyed  fay; 

And  gave,  with  smiles  that  thrilled  his  heart. 
That  precious  gift  of  Flora's  art. 

Her  own  boquet. 

Forth  went  the  youth  with  glowing  features. 
And  in  the  moonlight,  all  in  raptures. 

He  made  a  vow, 

And  holding  up  the  gift,  his  pride, 
Addressed  the  moon,  the  soldier  cried  : 

••  Oh  hear  me  now! 

••Oh.  Moon!  il  in  my  youthful  dsiys 
I  ever  penned  ecstatic  lays 

Thy  beams  to  praise. 
If  it  be  true  that  you  look  kindly 
On  those  who  sigh  and  love  on  blindly 
Beneath  thy  rays ; 

••  If  thou  art  still  the  maiden  queen 
Who  chased  the  deer  in  forests  green 

With  silver  bow ; 
If  lovers  are  by  thee  protected, 
When  in  their  maddest  acts  detected. 
Oh,  hear  me  now ! 


WAR   FLOWERS.  23 

"  And  if  you  smile  on  Cupid's  lies, 
That  render  stupid  the  most  wise, 

And  quick  the  slow  : 
If  e'er  you  blest  a  poet's  lay, 
And  taught  Great  Ocean  to  obey, 

Oh,  hear  my  vow ! 

"  Before  thy  dreamy  beams  I  swear 
These  flowers  on  my  heart  to  wear 

At  the  first  fight, 

And  he  who  points  his  weapon  there, 
Where  buds  of  beauty  bloom  so  fair, 

To  death  is  dight ! 

"  And  furthermore,  by  light  or  shade, 
I  swear  these  flowers  will  never  fade 

Within  my  soul, 

While  shines  the  sun  upon  the  globe, 
Or  stars  that  deck  the  night's  blue  robe 

In  heavens  roll !" 

With  that  he  swore  a  solemn  oath, 
Then  raised  his  hands  in  prayer  both 

To  her  above ; 

And  that  which  was  heard  from  him  last 
Were  these  words  whistling  in  the  blast : 

'•'  So  help  me  Love  ! " 

BATON  ROUGE,  October  2,  1862. 


24  WAR      FLOWERS. 

SONG. 

AIR— <;  We  have  lived  and  loved  together." 

The  moon  smiled  pale,  but  serenely, 

The  stars  like  tears  shone  above, 
As  I  wandered  all  pensive  and  lonely, 

And  thought  of  the  one  that  I  love. 
Perhaps  we  have  parted  forever, 

All  happiness  ends  with  regret., 
Ah !  'tis  cruel  of  heaven  to  sever 

Two  hearts  that  can  never  forget. 

The  light  fleecy  clouds  were  racing 

Like  ghosts  on  the  moon's  dreamy  eye. 
To  infinity  each  other  chasing, 

But  she  motionless  stood  in  the  sky. 
And  I  thought :  like  the  waves  of  a  river. 

Or  the  clouds,  will  my  days  come  and  go, 
But  my  love,  still  the  same,  will  forever 

Shine  bright  and  unsullied  as  snow. 

Her  name  on  my  lips  is  a  prayer. 

Her  image  a  god  in  my  heart. — 
I  would  sooner  be  dead  than  betray  her. 

She  loves  me,  and  oh,  we  must  part ! 
But  true  love  no  distance  can  sever : 

Even  time  cannot  wipe  it  away. 
Oh !  then,  let  us  hope  and  love  ever. 

And  night  will  yet  melt  into  day. 
PORT  HUDSOX,  January  7. 1RC2. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  25 


I  saw  a  rose  upon  its  bush, 

So  fair, 
It  seemed  to  color  with  its  blush 

The  air. 

Among  its  thorns,  with  leaves  unfurled, 

It  shone 
Like  Innocence  upon  the  world, 

Alone. 

What  do  they  think,  the  pretty  flowers 

That  bloom  ? 
Is  it  their  thoughts  that  fairy  bowers 

Perfume  ? 

For  thoughts  are  sweet,  when  they  are  pure, 

Like  roses, 
And  soft  as  light  which  the  morn's  azure 

Discloses. 

I  do  not  like  to  pluck  a  blooming 

Flower  ; 
No  sin  appears,  to  my  presuming, 

Lower. 

But  as  she  was  destined  to  you, 

Her  mate, 
I  did  not  think  that  she  would  rue 

Her  fate  ; 


26  WAR  FLOWERS. 

But  when  I  took  her  in  my  hand 

'Twas  faded, 
Like  some  bright  dream  of  fairy  land 

Degraded. 

And  thus  I  thought :  "  Is  this  world  made 

Of  lies? 
Can  we  believe,  for  flower  or  maid, 

Our  eyes  ? 

;<  Must  we  still  say,  this  beauteous  thing 

But  seems  ? 

The  truest  pleasures  life  can  bring 
Are  dreams  ? 

"  Fancy  always  our  'raptured  eyes 

Beguiles, 

And  we're  deceived  by  painted  lies 
And  smiles  ? " 

I  brought  the  rose  to  you,  and  lo ! 

I  found 
A  cure  to  soothe  my  heartfelt  woe 

Profound ! 

For  you  are  holy  as  the  rose, 

And  pure 
As  morn's  own  beam  that  radiant  glow?, 

I'm  sure ! 


WAR    FLOWERS.  21 

And  you  are  one  of  those  bright  flowers. 

A  maid 
Whom  life  cannot  with  evil  hours 

E'er  fade ! 
BATON  ROUGE,  October  16,  1862. 


To    ]VIrj*.    Isabella    Grrinnell. 


The  soldier  lays  upon  his  helpless  bed, 
Far  from  his  home,  reft  of  maternal  care  ; 
With  war's  stern  paint  his  gaping  wounds  are  red, 
Yet  in  his  sleep  smiles  the  young  warrior  there ; 

For  sunlit  fancies  dance  around  his  head — 
Once  more  at  home,  he  breathes  its  healing  air. 
Beneath  a  mother's  magic  touch  forbear 
The  fearful  pains,  and  drops  the  fever  dread ! 

He  wakes,  and  lo !  still  smiles  a  mother's  face 
Beside  his  bed  with  charitable  grace — 
The  magic  hand  still  plies  its  healing  arts. 

All  who  have  known  her,  loved  her,  for  she's  kind  ; 
Her  children  are  the  sufferers  of  mankind  ; 
Her  name,  'tis  written  in  heaven  and  our  hearts ! 
GLOBE  HOSPITAL,  Richmond,  May,  1862, 


28  WAR    FLOWERS. 

I3ULCI  A. 

Bright  were  the  stars  that  shone  last  night, 

Not  brighter  than  your  eyes  ; 
Your  smiles  are  sweeter  than  the  dawn. 

Softer  than  summer  skies  ! 
I  do  not  mean  to  flatter  you 

With  unbeseeming  lies, 
But  you'll  believe  me,  I  am  sure, 

Your  modesty's  so  wise! 

The  candy  that  you  sent  was  sweet, 

The  sweeter  for  its  size  ; 
Small  things  are  nicest,  and  I  hate 

Of  aught  to  gormandize  ; 
'Twas  small  and  sweet,  just  like  a  kiss, 

Enough  to  tantalize, 
I  took  it  as  an  allegory 

To  suit  my  wishful  sighs ! 
BATON  ROUOE,  October  23, 1802. 


QUKRID  A. 

I  will  not  see  you,  love,  to-day — 
Oh,  what  a  heavy  morning  this  is ! 

Though  smiles  the  sun  and  skies  look  gay, 
It  is  with  you  alone  that  bliss  is  ; 


AVAR   FLOWERS.  29 

I  will  not  ligkt  my  anxious  soul 
To-day,  with  fire  from  your  sweet  eyes. 

Therefore  the  hours  will  darkly  roll, 
All  heedless  of  the  beaming  skies  : 

But  I  will  see  you.  love,  to-morrow, 

And  skies  take  back  their  looks  of  azure  ; 

And  dark  as  shall  have  been  the  sorrow, 
So  bright  will  be  the  glowing  pleasure — 

How  loud  soever  love  may  call 
With  syren  voice  and  eyes  of  beauty. 

A  soldier's  honor  is  his  all 

And  happiness  must  bow  to  duty ! 
BATON  ROUGE,  November  29.  ISii-j. 


A.13VICE   TO  A.  YOTJISTO 

If  I  were  beautiful  and  bright, 
If  I  had  eyes  that  shamed  the  light 

Of  heaven's  stars, 
If  like  you,  I  was  fair  and  witty, 
I'd  be  a  flirt  and  show  less  pity 

Than  cruel  Mars ! 


30  AVAR      FLOWERS. 

I'd  never  marry,  not  at  least, 

'Till  I  had  brought  down  that  poor  beast. 

Dull  man,  to  reason, 
I'd  have  all  dying  for  my  sake, 
And  break  more  hearts  than  God  can  make 

In  one  whole  season  ; 

I'd  think  of  nothing  but  of  balls, 
Of  silken  robes  and  cashmere  shawls, 

Of  gems  and  beaux, 
I'd  be  the  sweetest,  eruelest  creature 
That  ever  twisted  heaven's  nature 

To  artful  shows  ;— 

1  would,  like  you,  be  dark  and  pale, 
For  rosy  cheeks  will  tell  a  tale 

Though  lips  may  lie  ; 
I'd  study  the  dissembling  art, 
I'd  carry  scorn  within  my  heart. 

Love  in  my  eye ! 

I'd  practice  smiles  of  deep  deceit 
To  bring  my  victims  to  my  feet 

With  hopes  absurd, 
Then  send  them  off  in  dull  despair 
To  tear  their  clothes,  or  pull  their  hair, 

If  they  preferred  ; — 


WAR  FLOWERS.  31 

I'd  be  the  gayest  of  the  gay, 
Smile  ever,  like  a  month  of  May, 

Though  full  of  sorrow, 

And  though  I'd  break  some  hearts  with  anguish. 
My  gay  flirtation  would  not  languish 

For  food,  the  morrow  ; — 

My  heart  of  ice  and  eyes  of  fire, 
My  voice,  as  tuneful  as  the  lyre 

That  Orpheus  rules, 
Would  bring  men  at  my  feet  to  sigh, 
And  I  would  laugh  to  see  them  cry 

For  being  fools ! 

From  nothing  in  the  woiid  I'd  shrink  ' 
To  make  the  stupid  creatures  think 

That  I  was  truthful- 
Vows,  smiles  and  tears,  I'd  lavish  all, 
How  could  they  doubt  such  proofs  at  all 

In  one  BO  youthful ! 

I'd  be,  in  fact,  a  true  coquette, 
With  all  due  forms  and  etiquette 

My  heart  I'd  screen, 
I'd  have  my  flatterers  and  my  knights 
And  vassals  'neath  the  ball  room  lights 

Would  call  me  queen — 


32  \V.\U     FLOWERS. 

All  would  beneath  my  sceptre  bend — 
My  chains  no  mortal  strength  could  rend. 

Though  light  they'd  be, 
Smiles  would  repay  my  loyal  slaves 
And  frowns  annihilate  the  knaves 

Who  would  be  free ! 

But,  oh!  by  all  on  earth  I  hold  dear. 
I'd  have  no  mercy  on  the  soldier — 

Who,  bred  in  camps, 
Will  shoot  Mars'  shafts  or  Cupid's  arrows 
With  equal  coolness  as  at  sparrows 

Aim  village  scamps  ; 

As  they  have  never  long  to  stay, 
They  want  to  make  their  visits  pay — 

Therefore  are  bold  ; 
I'd  punish  all  such  graceless  wretches 
By  chaining  them  with  amorous  ketches 

In  Love's  stronghold ! 

And  what  if  they  should  go  despairing? 
Twill  make  their  valors  still  more  daring 

The  State  to  save  ; 
A  broken  heart  no  foe  will  quell — 
And  what  cares  he  for  shot  or  shell 

Who  courts  a  grave '' 


WAR     FLOWERS. 

I'd  be  coquettish,  but  yet  prudent ; 
For  Love  will  pierce  with  arrows  ardent 

The  closest  mail — 

Some  have  been  known,  heart-breakers  rare. 
(For  some  cold  swain  who  did  not  care.) 

To  take  the  veil— 

For  e'en  coquettes  will  once  be  frail — 
And  women  often  long  bewail 

Unguarded  moments  — 
Full  many  a  life  begun  with  smiles, 
Has  ended,  thanks  to  Cupid's  wiles, 

In  fearful  torment? ! 

i 

And  men  are  false,  sometimes,  you  know, 
The  blind  boy  strikes  the  conquering  brow 

With  direst  crime  5 
Of  fifty  lovers  who  adore, 
Three-fourths  will  love  us,  less  or  more. 

Just  to  kill  time ! 
PORT  HUDSON,  February  15.  1863. 


34  WAR    FLOWERS. 

AMOR. 

''  L 'amour  est  plus  fort  que  la  mort ! " 

Fair  angels  that  in  limpid  azure  rove, 
Inspire  my  verse  to  sing  a  song  of  love, 

With  words  and  thoughts  sublime  ; 
Show  how  devotion  blends  two  loving  hearts 
And  to  each  beating  bosom  how  imparts 

A  corresponding  chime ! 

A  youth  and  uuiideu  sat  in  converse  sweet — 
No  purer  hearts  in  mortal  bosoms  beat. 

No  more  resplendent  forms 
E'er  courted  sunlight  in  the  flowery  field, 
Or  basked  in  love  beams,  to  whose  radiance  yield 

KVn  winter's  dismal  storms. 

Their  love  was  not  that  passing  ray  of  light, 
Born  of  reflection,  which  worldlings  doth  unite, 

A  dull  and  temperate  flame, 
Upon  whose  sacrificial  fane  no  victim  bleeds, 
Save  when  at  times  a  beauty  sows  the  seeds 

Of  love  to  gather  shame. 

Theirs  was  the  pure,  tlr  ethereal  gift  of  God, 
Coeval  with  his  all  creative  nod. 
The  universal  song 


WAR    FLOWERS.  35 

Born  of  divine  effulgence,  sacred  bur. 
Which  angels,  from  each  palpitating  star. 
On  harps  of  gold  prolong! 

Theirs  is  no  afterthought,  they  love — 'tis  all  : 
Their  softest  music  is  a  tender  call 

By  each  of  mutual  names  - 
To  see  each  other,  mingle  causeless  tears 
With  doting smiles,foud  hopes  with  groundless  fears. 

These  are  their  highest  aims. 

Whole  days  they  pass,  'twined  in  each  others  arms. 
Admiring  all  tilings,  adoring  Nature's  charms, 

Its  songsters  and  its  flowers — 
But  still  reverting  to  each  other's  faces. 
With  grateful  conscience  of  no  fairer  graces. 

Forgot  the  fleeting  hours ! 

Yet  they  conld  see  the  blooming  flowers  die. 
'Reft  of  his  mate  could  hear  the  dove's  low  cry. 

Behold  the  falling  leaves, 

And  as  black  winter  frowned  and  chilled  the  air. 
Could  mark  on  Nature's  withered  brow  the  care1 

That  o'er  lost  beauty  grieves ! 

Yes,  thro'  their  dream  they  saw  how  all  things  pass- 
Thejr  love,  they  felt  eternal,  but  alas ! 
Since  glories  all  must  fade, 


36  WAR      FLOWERS. 

They  trembled  lest  some  ruthless  winter  uight 
Should  o'er  their  prospect  cast  the  unfailing  blight 
Which  poisons  bliss  betrayed  : 

For  Time  and  Death  pursue  a  headlong  way, 
Nor  choose  their  victims,  but  remorseless  prey 

On  beauty,  health  and  bloom  : 
The  old,  the  young,  the  virtuous  and  profane. 
The  bird  in  air,  the  prisoner  in  his  chain. 

All  blend  in  future  gloom! 

Time  is  a  rust  which  eats  up  youthful  hearts  : 
'Tis  Time  which  lover  from  his  lady  parts  ; 

"  Whom  the  gods  love  die  young  '•'- 
They  take  their  leave  without  one  bitter  thought. 
Pale  wisdom  by  experience  dearly  bought 

Leaves  their  pure  souls  unstung. 

How  many  sages  one  hour  has  brought  to  shame  : 
How  many  heroes  lost  immortal  fame 

By  one  day's  dizziness  ; 
How  many  lovers  blessed  would  have  been 
Had  they  not  lived  one  day  too  long,  I  ween, 

For  faith  and  happiness!. 

And  tearing  Time,  thus  prayed  the  youthful  lovers  : 
••  God,  whose  new  mercies,  every  day  discovers, 
Oh.  listen  to  our  prayer ! 


WAR    FLOWERS.  37 

i%  This  tleetiug  world  thou  never  mad'st  for  love. 
It  changes  so— alone  the  heavens  above, 
Eternal .  dread  no  care  ! 

i-Oh!  let  its  die  before  our  frames  grow  old — 
Oh!  let  us  sleep  before  our  love  is  cold — 

Let  us  not  live  to  monrn ! 
Let  no  pale  tombstone  chill  our  fixed  eye  ; 
To  You  with  Faith  and  Love,  oh,  let  us  fly. 
On  Hope's  white  pinions  borne ! 

••  Let  us  depart  with  all  our  blissful  dreams. 
Ere  yet  our  love  hath  quenched  its  golden  beams 

In  Future's  dark  abyss  ; 
While  yet  we  smile,  nor  wish  to  blot  ihe  past. 
Dying  of  love,  oh,  let  us  breathe  our  last 

In  one  eternal  kiss !" 

Thus  pray  'd  the  pair,  their  vows  to  heaven  ascended, 
Their  spotless  wish  the  God  of  love  befriended 

And  sent  his  holy  thunder, — 
Midst  the  sublimest  rapture  of  their  hearts 
From  the  black  cloud  the  blessed  lightning  darts 

Nor  rends  their  hearts  asunder-- 

They  were  found  sleeping  'neath  an  aged  oak. 
Of  a  celestial  bliss  their  features  spoke, 
A  bliss  without  a  name  ; — 


38  \\.U-.      FLO  \VfcRS. 

Struck  in  each  other's  arms,  by  God's  own  doom. 
By  angels  culled  in  death,  their  love  will  bloom 
Eternally  the  same ! 

The  martyr's  holy  tomb,  the  patriot's  grave . 
The  storied  urn,  the  consecrated  nave 

Where  heroes  lie  immortal. 
To  sacred  thoughts  excite  th'  admiring  soul. 
And  men  aspire  to  enter  the  heavenly  goal 

By  such  a  glorious  portal  : 

But  Hate  and  Envy  these  proud  ghosts  pursue, 
And  cruel  Slander  opes  their  wounds  anew 

And  clouds  their  shining  glory, 
Oh  !  them  I  envy  not,  if  I  can  rest 
With  happy  love's  eternal  sunshine  blest. 

Unknown  to  fame  or  story  !  ^ 

CLIXTOX,  May  5, 180:'.. 


Farewell !    Stern  duty  calls  me  fast 

'Gainst  the  foe. 
JVe  been  happy,  but  'tis  past, 

Let  it  go— 


WAR  FLOWERS.  39 

Wheresoever  'tis  my  lot 

Here  to  roam, 
I  will  think  me  of  this  spot 

As  of  home ; 

I  will  think  of  tlicc  and  thine. 

Far  or  near, 
As  of  joys  which  we  resign 

With  a  tear  ; 

Ah !  we  meet,  we  love,  we  part : 

What's  eternal  ? 
All !  the  pains  that  break  the  heart 

Are  diurnal ! 

And  we  think  of  happy  moments 

That  are  fled, 
As  friends  mourn  with  soul-felt  torments 

O'er  the  dead ! 

Yet  let  me,  as  I  bid  farewell. 

Laugh  the  while, — 
So  the  ancient  heroes  fell 

With  a  smile. 

And  when  I  am  gone  I  sue 

On  my  knee, 
When  you've  nothing  else  to  do. 

Think  of  me ! 

Ci.lNION,  June  3,  1863. 


\\AK 
GH-.EN    ROY. 

BONNET. 

It  is  a  carious  world,  this  world  of  om>. 
Time  but  creates  in  order  to  destroy — 
One  day,  and  then  fade  happiness  and  flowers, 
Springs  forth  a  source  of  pain  from  every  joy ! 

Thus  have  I  seen  aud  loved  tliee,  fair  Glen  Roy. 
Where  hospitality  weaves  happy  hours. 
Where  neither  sky  nor  brow  unkindly  lower-. 
Bnt  all  is  pure  like  gold  without  nlloy  ! 

Thus  must  I  leavo  tlirc,  mansion  where  the  smiles 
Of  beauty,  fair  as  light,  shine  void  of  wiles 
To  cheer  the  weary  and  inspire  the  heart. 

Farewell ;  I  may  not  see  tliee  more,  but  yet 
Where  gratitude  forbids  us  to  forget, 
Remembrance  still  remains,  though  joys  depart ! 
YA.,  Sept.,  1861. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  41 

THE   CANN-OTSTEER'S   DOOM!! 


A  IJIGEND  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

•'  Oh,  tell  me  not  of  trimmings  red  ;'' 

Thus  sighed  a  cannoneer  — 
li  The  light  of  love  its  beams  hath  shed 
On  yellow,  bright  and  clear  ; 

I 
"  A  thousand  horsemen  haunt  my  soul 

With  yellow  trimmings  bright, 
A  thousand  horses  rear  and  roll 
Upon  my  couch  at  night— 

"  They  prance  and  trot,  they  laugh  and  jeer 

'Twould  rouse  a  heart  of  stone  ; 
Alas  !  alas  !  poor  cannoneer 
Your  occupation's  gone  ! 

"  Erewhiles  the  red  was  all  the  go, 

But  now,  the  yellow  rules,  — 

This  life  is  but  a  fleeting  show, 

And  we  are  Fortune's  fools  ! 

"  The  boots  and  spurs  are  on  the  rise, 

Young  Cupid  for  them  vouches, 
They  get  the  comforters,  my  eyes  ! 
And  the  tobacco  pouches  ! 
6 


42  WAR    FLOWERS. 

••  They  get  the  bright  smiles  that  you  sought — 

Oh,  F.  B.'s  what  a  shame ! 
My  soul  is  dark — I  ask  for  naught — 
A  grave  without  a  name." 

Thus  sighed  the  ardent  cannoneer 

And  beat  his  manly  breast, 
And  much  more  would  have  said,  I  fear, 

But  I  must  spare  the  rest. 

'Twould  make  the  ladies  cry,  I  ween. 

They  are  so  wondrous  tender — 
His  life  was  short,  his  death  serene, 

His  epitaph  was  slender — 

"  Here  lies  an  amorous  cannoneer, 

With  mellow  heart  if  ever ; 
Ladies  avaunt,  yet  shed  a  tear — 

He  died  of  yeUow  fever!" 
COTTAGE  HILL,  ALA.,  September  7, 1863. 


Farewell  to  thee,  loved  one,  false-hearted, 
Who  could  love  and  forget  in  a  breath— 

Oh !  who  would  have  thought,  when  we  parted. 
That  aught  would  divide  us  but  death  ? 


WAR    FLOWERS.  43 

For  she  said  that  she  loved  me  and  swore  it — 

I  read  the  false  tale  in  her  eyes — 
Oh !  I'll  pick  out  a  star  and  adore  it, 

For  this  world's  of  divisions  and  lies ! 

Of  all  women  I  thought  she'd  be  true  ;— 
That  I  should  be  so  quickly  forsaken ! 

So  artful,  yet  beautiful  too — 
Oh,  why  that  I  was  so  mistaken  ? 

Or,  did  you  believe  that  I  lied,  say — 
When  I  vowed  by  my  own  sainted  mother 

To  cherish  and  love  till  I  died,  say— 
And  never  to  love  any  other  ? 

Can  such  memories  e'er  be  forgotten  ? 

What  good  did  the  falsehood  to  thee ''. 
For  those  treasures  of  love,  thus  ill  gotten, 

They  are  lout  both  to  yon  and  to  me! 

Though  you're  gone  to  return  to  me  never, 
Your  cross  still  remains  on  my  breast — 

And  your  portrait  still  smiles  on  as  ever — 
But,  alas,  that  will  fade  like  the  rest ! 

I  will  never  more  love  or  believe — 

I  will  live  with  my  thoughts  and  my  visions — 

For  the  lifeless  alone  won't  deceive — 
And  this  world  is  of  blights  and  divisions ! 


44  WAR      FLOWERS. 

Then  fare  thee  well,  loved  one,  false-hearted. 

Who  could  love  and  forget  in  a  breath — 
Oh !  who  would  have  thought  when  we  parted 

That  aught  would  divide  us  but  death ! 
IK  TH«  FIELD  N*AR  DALTON,  UA.,  Dec.  17, 1863. 


Wastes  may  divide  us  and  distance  may  hide  us 

From  each  other's  eyes, 
But  true  hearts  once  plighted  are  ever  united 

By  fond  memories ; 

Our  sorrows  may  flow,  but  the  bosom's  warm  glow 

Will  dry  up  those  tears, 
Whilst  the  promising  future,  all  sunlight  and  rapture, 

Dispels  our  fears ; 

Ah!  let  us  love  ever,  and  distance  may  sever, 

But  never  us  part ; 
What  tho'  death  separate  us  ?  the  blue  heavens  await  us, 

Tour  heart  and  my  heart ! 
DALTON,  G\.,  December  2, 1863. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  45 

SHORT  RATIONS. 

A    SONG. — DEDICATED  TO  THE  CORNKED  ARMY  OF  TENNESSEE. 

Fair  ladies  and  maids  of  all  ages, 

Little  girls  and  cadets  howe'er  youthful, 
Homeguards,  quartermasters  and  sages 

Who  edit  newspapers  .so  truthful ; 
Clerks,  surgeons  and  supes,  legislators, 

Staff  officers,  fops  of  the  nation. 
And  even  you,  dear  speculators. 

Come  list  to  my  song  of  starvation. 

CHORUS : 
For  we  soldiers  have  seen  something  rougher 

Than  a  storm,  a  retreat  or  a  fight, 
But  the  body  may  toil  on  and  suffer 

With  a  smile,  so  the  heart  is  all  right ! 

Our  bugles  had  roused  up  the  camp. 

The  heavens  looked  dismal  and  dirty, 
The  earth  was  unpleasant  and  damp, 

Like  a  maid  on  the  wrong  side  of  thirty — 
We  were  taking  these  trials  with  quiet, 

When  we  heard  from  the  mouth  of  some  rash  ones 
That  the  army  was  all  put  on  diet, 

And  the  board  had  diminished  the  rations ! 
CHORUS  :  Oh,  we  soldiers,  etc. 


46  WAR     FLOWERS. 

Reduce  our  rations  at  all ! 

It  was  difficult,  yet  it  was  done— 
We  had  one  meal  a  day,  it  was  small, 

Are  we  now,  holy  Gods,  to  have  none  ? 
Oh  ye  gentlemen  issuing  rations 

Give  at  least  half  her  own  to  the  State, 
Fut  a  curb  on  your  lust  and  your  passions 

And  commissaries  commiserate ! 
CHORUS  :  Oh,  we  soldiers,  etc. 

Tell  me  not  of  the  Lacedemonian, 

Of  his  black  broth  and  savage  demeanor. 
We  carry  a  face  less  Plutonian, 

But  I  swear  our  corn  coffee  is  meaner! 
Tell  me  nothing  of  ancients  and  strangers, 

For  on  seeing  our  Southern-bred  Catos, 
I  have  laughed  at  old  Marion's  rangers 

Who  feasted  on  roasted  potatoes ! 
CHORUS  :  Oh.  we  soldiers,  etc. 

Erewhiles  we  had  chickens  and  roasters, 

For  the  fowls  and  the  pigs  were  ferocious — 
We  sent  them  to  long  pater  nosters, 

And  the  deed  was  not  stamped  as  atrocious  ; 
But  since  men  have  been  shot  for  the  same. 

We  parch  corn,  it  is  healthier,  but  tougher  : 
The  chickens  and  pigs  have  got  tame, 

But  the  horses  and  mules  have  to  suffer ! 

CHORUS  :  Oh,  we  soldiers,  etc. 
Is  TIIE  FIEW>  NEAR  DAITON,  GA.,  Deo.  22, 1863. 


WAR   FLOWERS.  47 

THAT  YOU  LOVE  ME. 

A    SONG. 

Life's  shadows  hovered  darkly. 

Like  clouds  upon  the  blast, 
And  on  me  glowered  starkly 

The  spectres  of  the  past ; 
Now,  promising  and  bright, 

The  heavens  shine  above  me, 
And  all  my  loads  are  light 

Now  that  you  love  me ! 

I  thought  that  all  the  joys  of  earth 

Were  only  painted  lies, 
That  there  was  naught  of  any  worth 

Beneath  the  changeful  skies  ; 
But  now  th'  eternal  truth  hath  shone 

And  hopeful  transports  move  me, 
Now  sing  my  thoughts  with  blissful  tone, 

Now  that  you  love  me ! 

To  meet  the  light  the  shadows  dare  not ; 

All  misery  flies  from  you — 
If  all  the  world  is  false,  I  care  not. 

So  you  are  only  true ! 
All,  all,  is  perfect,  fair  and  bright, 

Below,  around,  above  me, — 
Earth's  darkest  corners  beam  with  light 

Now  that  you  love  me ! 
MoBttB,  October  26,  1862. 


WAR     FLOWERS. 
A.  DEDICATION. 

TO  MKS.  FANNY  S.  BEARS. 

To  you,  though  known  but  yesterday,  I  tmst 

These  winged  thoughts  of  mine, 
Be  not,  I  pray,  too  critically  just, 

Rather  be  mercy  thine ! 

Nor  think  on  reading  my  despairing  rhymes. 

That  I  am  prone  to  sigh, 
Poets,  like  children,  weep  and  laugh  at  times. 

Without  scarce  knowing  why ! 

Thoughts  tend  to  heaven,  mine  are  weak  and  faint, 

Please  help  them  up  for  me, 
The  sick  and  wounded  bless  you  as  a  saint, 

In  this  my  patron  be  ; 

And  as  the  sun  when  shining  it  appears 

On  dripping  rain  awhile, 
Make  a  bright  rainbow  of  my  fancy's  tears 

With  your  condoling  smile  ! 
KINGSTON,  February  23,  1864. 


WAK    FLOWERS.  49 

\V  I  N  T  E  li . 

"The  moou  she  is  a  wandering  ghost 
That  walks  in  penance  nightly. 
How  sad  she  is,  the  wandering  inoon. 
For  all  she  shines  so  brightly! " 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  clear 

Winter  night, 
And  its  moon  with  such  a  drear. 

Cruel  light? 

On  its  pathway  blue  and  chilly. 

Blasting  all, 
It  advances,  coldly,  stilly, 

Like  a  pall ! 

On  the  cold  and  heartless  snow, 

Ever  glaring, 
How  it  chills  the  bosom's  glow. 

With  its  staring! 

Oh,  how  pitiless  it  stalks  on 

In  the  air ; 
It  is  Fate  that  sternly  walks  ou 

To  despair! 

It  tells  us  with  its  silent  voice  : 

"  Hope  not  mortals  ; 
All  must  enter,  there's  no  choice 

The  bleak  portals ! 

7 


50  WAR    K1.0WEKS. 

"  Think  of  all  the  things  you  cherished, 

All,  yes,  all ! 

Have  they  not.  one  by  one,  perished. 
Great  and  small '! 

••  Of  the  friends  yon  loved  so  dearly 

In  the  past. 

Some  went  late  and  some  went  early. 
Which  was  last  ? 

••  Where  are  all  your  aspirations, 

All  your  hopes  ? 
'Neath  the  snowy  undulations 
Of  the  slopes ! 

•'  All  the  dreams  and  loves,  those  shadows 

You  had  chosen, 

Like  the  rivers,  trees  and  meadows 
All  are  fro/.cn  !  " 

Thus  the  moon  with  spectral  glances 

Calmly,  stilly, 
On  its  pathway  still  advances 

White  and  chilly! 

And  the  heart  that  anguish  seines. 

Sullen  hears, 
For  the  cruel  winter  freezes 

Even  tears ! 
DAITON,  January  13,  1S64. 


\\"Afc    ^LOWERS.  51 

Tribute  to  the  Ladies  of   N~exv  Orleans. 

There  was  a  city  fabulously  grand  : 

The  riches  of  the  world  were  in  her  hand. 

Her  daughters  all  were  queens, 
Her  princely  sons  were  chivalrous  and  proud, 
And  glowing  Fame  thy  praises  vaunted  loud 

Oh  stately  New  Orleans ! 

There  came  a  day  of  darkness  and  despair 
When  startled  bells  alarmed  thy  morning  air. 

And  treachery  kist  thy  brow, 
The  foe  was  at  thy  gate  with  glaring  eye, — 
Then  didst  thou  utter  one  convulsive  cry  : 

"  My  sons,  where  are  you  now  ?  " 

But  they  were  gone  and  heard  thy  voice  in  vain 
As  it  came  thundering  on  the  distant  plain 

Where  vanquished  foes  were  flying— 
Thy  braves  were  gone,  the  tame  alone  remained 
One  single  hero  died  and  thou  wert  chained, — 

Then,  Freedom  thought  of  dying ! 

But  angels  were  with  thee  !  when  men  turned  pale 
And  cowardly  traitors  raised  a  helot's  wail 

Beneath  the  victor's  lash  ! 

Thy  queenly  daughters,  'fore  tlr  invading  wave. 
Willing  to  suffer,  if  they  could  but  save, 

Were  beautifully  rash ! 


52  WAR    FLOWERS. 

Conquered,  yet  free — insulted,  yet  divine, 

They  marched  on  spotless,  like  the  stars  that  shine 

More  glorious  through  a  cloud  ; 
They  knelt,  unsullied,  by  the  filthy  wrath 
Which  brutal  power  heaped  along  their  path. 

To  Freedom's  altar  proud  ! 

We  know  aud  love  them  whose  devoted  toils 
Midst  hungry  marches  and  in  battle's  broils 

One  memory  hath  repaid  ; 
Whose  patriot  sufferings  oft  have  been  relieved 
By  the  e'er  watchful  kindnesses  received 

From  their  angelic  aid ! 

Even  in  their  fetters  they  can  help  the  free, 
From  their  dark  prison  sending  notes  of  glee 

To  swell  heroic  choirs- 
Fast  fly  the  foe,  for  nothing  can  withstand 
The  furious  charge  of  the  undaunted  band 

Whom  such  a  song  inspires ! 

I've  seen  you  'ueath  the  ball  room's  festive  glare 
And,  decked  in  beauty,  shine  beyond  compare 

Within  the  opera  hall, 
And  as  Rossini's  voice  swelled  in  my  soul. 
My  heart,  enraptured,  leaped  without  control 

A  slave  to  wait  your  call ! 


\VAR    FLOWERS.  53 

Then,  you  were  queens  whom  vassals  we  admired. 
In  beauty,  grace  and  ease  you  lived  attired — 

What  could  one  wish  for  more  ? 
Now,  purified  by  suffering's  holy  flame, 
You  shine,  divinities,  in  the  house  of  Fame. 

Whom  mortals  we  adore ! 

Many  there  are,  exiled  from  childhood's  home, 
And  forced  abroad  in  stranger  States  to  roam.— 

Yet  happier  these  by  far ; 
They  do  not  hear  th'  insulting  foeman's  voice, 
They  help  the  soldiers — ?tis  their  noble  choice 

To  soothe  the  ills  of  war ! 

Fairies  that  bless  the  soldier's  weary  dreams 
When  with  home  thoughts  his  panting  bosom  teems. 

Stars  that  bedeck  his  sky, — 
Where  is  the  slave,  beneath  the  clouds  that  roll, 
Oh!  where's  the  coward  who  would  not  pledge  hi.s  soul 

For  you  to  do  or  die  ? 

My  heart  is  swelling  with  exultant  pride. 
And  heroic  fires  burn  within  my  side 

When  glows  your  mem'ry  there — 
Your  sons  and  lovers  know  their  proud  estate. 
And  will  deserve  your  love  or  meet  the  fate 

Which  patriot  heroes  dare ! 
March  25.  1864. 


54  WAR     FI.OWKKS. 

THE    CLERK'S    LAMENT. 


Give  my  companions  buck  to  me. 

My  rock  built  hut  so  gray. 
My  bugles  at  the  reveille 

That  roused  the  merry  day  ! 
Give  me  the  hearts  that  beat  with  mine 

In  friendly  uuisou — 
Give  me  my  good  friend's  oath  and  smile. 

The  warrior's  benison ! 
Take  me  from  where  convention  trie* 

On  honest  folks  her  sham-  - 
Oh !  let  me  hear,  for  courtly  lies. 

A  soul-inspiring  damn ! 
Though  ham  and  eggs  and  genuine 

Rio  be  now  my  lot, 
Though  I  inhabit  plastered  halls 

And  sleep  upon  a  cot : 
Though  I  possess  a  general  pass. 

And  live  among  the  ton, 
And  whirl  along  with  the  fracas 

That  follows  Mr.  Johnston — 
Though  I  enjoy  an  office,  sirs, 

Frequenting  all  the  flash  ones. 
And  like  the  full  starred  officer* 

Buy  undiminished  rations  ; 
Though  every  day  I  wash  my  face, 


AVAR    FLOWERS.  55 

Get  barbered  now  and  then. 
Wear  cleanest  underclothes  and  fact- 

The  general  in  his  den  ; 
Though  at  Hd.  Qrs.  I  can  shirk 

With  all  the  starry  grandees, 
And  am  the  most  essential  clerk 

Of  all  the  A.  A.  G's! 
Yet  I  regret  my  roving  days 

Of  sunshine  and  of  rain. 
The  friends  that  knew  my  little  ways. 

And  ne'er  I  called  in  vain ! 
The  friends  that  smiled  to  see  me  coine. 

And  laughed  at  all  my  jokes. 
So  that  I  felt  myself  at  home 

'Midst  Fortune's  heaviest  strokes— 
And  I  regret  our  bivouac  songs, — 

And  full  of  consternation 
1  think  about  our  silent  tongues 

Of  friendly  altercation! 
Bernardo,  dost  thou  think  of  me. 

When  blankets  scarcely  warm  tbee '! 
Zimluco.  dost  thou  still  love  me, 

Though  time  and  distance  storm  thee  ? 
Propheta,  Madam  Jeune  and  Lilly, 

Think  you  sometimes  of  him, 
Who,  far  from  you.  sees  lone  and  chilly, 

The  Dalton  hills  grow  dim  ? 


56  WAK      FLOWERS. 

Dost  sit  around  the  bright  camp  fire 

And  say  :  "  That  poor  Rinaldo. 
Oh,  what  a  pity  that  high  flyer, 

Jim  Eustis,  had  him  called  oh ! 
And  last,  but  ah !  not  least,  Carloo, 

My  ever  constant  friend. 
When  you  come  back,  who'll  cherish  you. 

Your  partner  not  at  hand  ? 
Methinks  I  hear  the  echoes  ring 

In  answer  to  your  sighs, 
Methinks  I  see  your  tear-drops  spring. 

Of  a  tremendous  size ! 
But,  ah!  we'll  meet  in  better  climes. 

(If  ever  we  go  there?) 
And  we  will  call  ';  The  good  old  Times  '* 

These  days  of  toil  and  care ! 
For  memory  paints  with  blessed  guile 

Past  suffering  to  our  eyes, 
And  we  remember  with  a  smile 

What  caused  us  many  sighs ! 

****** 

DALION,GA.,  March  -2<\,  Isf.:1,. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  57 


If  I  could  write  what  thinks  iny  heart, 

No  words  were  bright  and  warm  as  mine  : 
If  to  your  soul  I  could  impart 

My  raptures  in  a  song  divine, 
Tf  I  could  speak  as  angels  do, 

In  music  sweet  and  words  of  fire, 
I'd  ever  speak  and  sing  to  you 

Love's  theme  upon  the  'raptured  lyre! 

I  »nt  I'm  a  mortal,  and  my  tongue, 

Though  burst  my  heart,  can  hardly  speak. 
I  can  love  deeply,  well  and  long, 

But  words  to  tell  my  love  are  weak  ! 
If  I  were  lord  of  earth,  and  air, 

With  treasured  gems  of  ocean  brine. 
For  one  lock  of  your  chestnut  hair 

I'd  give  them  "all,  so  that  were  mine  ! 

I've  dreamt  of  Love  and  Paradise, 

And  asked  the  stars  if  such  things  were  — 
I've  met  your  darkly  beaming  eyes, 

Bliss,  Paradise,  with  Love  are  there  ! 
And  now,  I  weep  no  more,  nor  dream 

Beneath  the  stars  that  palely  shine, 
For  I  have  seen  your  features  beam 

And  bright  realities  now  are  mine  ! 

DVI.TON,  April  5,  1864. 


58  WAR      FLOWERS. 

M:Y  LOVE. 

My  love  is  the  fairest, 

The  sweetest,  the  dearest, 
The  best  love  that  is  in  the  world  : 

Her  beauty  imposes, 

Though  modest  as  roses 
That  blush  at  their  graces  unfurled ! 

She's  my  greatest  of  treasures, 

My  fountain  of  pleasures, 
My  happiness,  comfort  and  pride. 

And  my  heart's  adoration, 

Is  enhanced  by  duration, 
And  pain  becomes  joy  by  her  side ! 

She  is  mine,  so  I  prize  her. 

My  heart  like  a  miser. 
Keeps  hidden  this  gem  of  my  capture 

All  alone  and  in  quiet 

I  delight  and  enjoy  it 
In  vast  egotistical  rapture ! 

She  is  not  broken-hearted, 
Though  by  war  we  are  parted, 

For  she  kiunos  how  to  love,  and  f*he  swore 
That  a  man  without  honor 
Would  never  have  won  her, 

And,  hearing,  I  loved  her  the  more ! 

,  May  6.  1864. 


WAR   FLOWERS.  59 

I3NT   THE   TRENCHEK. 

The  rain  is  pouring  with  remorseless  drops, 

The  dampened  breezes  sigh, 
Each  now  and  then  a  Yankee  rifle  pops 

And  angry  Minnies  fly ; 

Our  gun  is  scanning  with  a  sullen  brow 

The  wide  extended  plain, 
Ready  to  send  upon  the  Yanks  below 

Its  deadly  iron  rain  : 

I'm  under  shelter,  (?)  who  would  call  it  so, 

Save  but  a  hardened  reb  ? 
A  blanket  'cross  a  pale,  rain  pouring  thro' 

The  thin  and  flimsy  web  ! 

Yet  greybacks  passing  envy  my  retreat 

And  blast  me  on  their  way, 
Saying  :  "  Come  out  of  there,  I  see  your  feet. 

Come  out  of  there,  I  say! 

I'm  hungry  as  a  wolf,  I  wish  Carloo 

Would  bring  me  up  some  ham! 
But  ah !  he's  thinking  of  his  maiden  true, 

And  heeds  me  not  a ! 


60  WAR      FLOWERS. 

I  wish  1  had  a  love  to  make  me  think. 

These  days  of  war  and  rain, — 
I  would  not  waste  my  .soul,  for  meat  and  drink. 

In  aspirations  vain  : 

But  ah !  no  smiling  lace  my  path  delights 

And  I  must  brave  old  Nick, 
The  rain,  thirst,  hunger,  with  unfrequent  bites. 

And  rare  killiekiniok  : 

The  wind  arises  and  I  think  of  home. 

Awhile  my  bosom  cheers, 
But  darker  clouds  obscure  the  heaven's  dome. 

And  change  my  thoughts  to  tears — 

But  hark !  the  fight  has  opened,  shells  explode 

And  moves  the  hostile  hosts — 
"  Fall  in ! " — some  quartermaster  end  this  ode. 

I  hurry  to  my  post! 
BUZZARDS'  ROOST,  May  10, 1864. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  61 

TO    OUR,   DEAJ3   OIP  NETW  HOI>E. 

CORPORAL  W.  H.  BRl'NET  AND  PRIVATE  R.  A.  BRIDGENS. 

The  fitcts  recited  below  ;m-  historical.  They  occurred  in  the 
battle  of  New  Hope  Church,  on  the  25th  of  May,  1864,  during  Gen. 
Johnston's  Georgia  campaign,  where  two  brigades  of  Infantry  of 
Stuart's  division  and  Eldridge's  Battalion  of  Artillery  forming  the 
rear  of  the  army,  after  a  severe  engagement  of  three  hours,  repulsed 
Hooker's  corps  of  Sherman's  army.  The  heroes  whose  loss  we 
deplore  in  the  following  lines,  belonged  to  Fenner's  Louisiana  Bat 
tery,  whose  services  on  that  day  were  particularly  noticed  by  the 
General  in  his  order  of  the  day. 

They  sleep  the  deep  sleep  *'neath  the  sanctified  sod 

Made  holy  with  patriot  gore  ; 
Tfaey  are  resting  lor  aye  in  the  bosoui  of  God. 

The  bugle  will  wake  them  no  more ! 

No  more  will  they  thunder  their  wrath  on  the  foes. 

Nor  smile  on  their  friends  as  of  yore, 
By  Honor's  proud  voice  they  were  lulled  to  repose. 

Their  knell  Avas  the  fierce  battle  roar ! 

One  died — he  had  sighted  his  gun  ere  he  fell, 

That  round  was  the  Corporal's  last ; 
His  soul  on  the  canister  rushed  with  a  yell 

And  scattered  the  foe  as  it  passed ! 

None  braver  in  battle,  in  camp  none  more  kind, 
On  the  march  and  bivouac  none  so  gay  ; 

Let  him  rest — in  the  hearts  of  his  friends  he's  enshrined 
And  God  Freedom's  debt  will  repay ! 


ba  WAR  FLOWERS. 

Another  was  tending  the  trail — came  the  shot 

And  buried  itself  in  his  head — 
His  brother  stretched  out  the  pale  corse — murmured  not. 

And  stern,  took  the  place  of  the  dead ! 

He  also  was  struck — but  unmoved  he  remained. 

At  his  post  like  a  statue  he  stood, 
Till  his  third  brother  came  on  the  ground,  crimson  staiu'd 

By  the  flow  of  his  own  kindred  blood ! 

'Twas  then  the  young  Spartan  on  giving  his  place 

To  the  last  of  the  heroic  three, 
Said :  "Brother,''  then  looking  the  dead  in  the  face, 

"  Give  them  one  for  revenge  and  for  me  !'•' 

No  more  need  we  look  in  dead  history's  page 

Our  souls  with  devotion  to  fire, 
For  our  eyes  have  beheld  in  this  country  and  age 

How  heroes  and  freemen  expire !    - 

All  honor  and  fame  to  the  good  and  the  brave, 

The  dead  of  our  patriot  band, 
The  martyrs  who  perished  their  country  to  save 

At  Liberty's  welcome  command  ! 

KENNESAW  RIDGE,  June  16,  1864. 


WAR   FLOWERS.  63 

ODE    TO   A.  BODY  JL.OTJSK. 

Let  others  sing  of  strife  and  war's  alarms 

And  waste  their  breath  ; 
To  me  the  subject  is  devoid  of  charms 

That  treats  of  death— 
Too  many  horrors  meet  the  poet's  eye, 
When  war's  fell  torch  glares  blood  red  in  the  sky. 

Let  bards  more  favored  sing  of  love  and  wine. 

Who  get  such  things, 
To  me,  no  woman,  nor  no  drink  divine 

Its  solace  brings, 

Wedded  to  war,  a  most  ungrateful  spouse, 
I  sing  the  glories  of  the  body  louse ! 

What  and  whence  art  thou,  creeping  thing  of  dirt. 

And  what  thine  aim, 
When  thus  thou  treadest  rncath  the  soldier's  shirt 

The  paths  of  fame  ? 

AVhere  mud  is  deepest,  and  where  balls  fly  thickest. 
To  heroes'  underclothes  thou  ever  stickest. 

A  martyr  to  some  cause  which  heaven  knows,  (?)• 

With  none  to  nurse  you, 
You  walk  life's  road  companion  to  your  foes 

And  those  that  curse  you ! 
Thou  hast  thy  loves  and  pfocreatest  fast. 
Ah !  such  the  fate  of  pariah  and  outcast ! 


64  WAR     FLOWERS. 

Dost  ever  think?    Dost  sing  with  nature's  choir 

The  fated  song  ? 
They  say  no  dust  than  other  dust  stands  higher. 

The  god's  among, 

Then  why  should  man  despise  the  equal  form. 
Himself  made  out  of  dirt,  a  larger  worm  ? 

I  do  not  love  thee,  for  thou  never  sloepest. 

Yet  though  I  kill  thee, 
'Tis  not  thro'  malice,  but  with  sorrow  deepest 

And  but  to  still  thee  ; 

Thus  both  the  opposing  wills  of  Fate  fulfill. 
Your  part's  to  bite  and  die— I  scratch  and  kill. 

But  not  alone  with  soldiers-  dost  remain — 

On  beauty's  neck 
I've  seen  you  creeping,  scandalously  plain. 

A  startling  speck ;  * 

I'm  sure  tJwu  couldst  have  told  a  moving  tale. 
Of  love  exchanges  'tween  the  brave  and  frail. 

Cosmopolite,  thoulivt^l  ;it  Immr  with  all 

•  Both  rich  and  poor, 
On  priest  and  layman  thou  art  known  to  crawl. 

On  king  and  boor — 

But  with  the  infantry  thou,  must  dclightest 
And  at  their  warlike  skins  devoutly  bitest. 

^Historical. 


WAR    FLO  WEltK. 

Like  Hamlet  muffled  in  his  inky  cloak. 

You  "/enow  no  seams," 
Beneath  the  staff's  white  linen  patent  yoke 

Your  gentry  teems ; 
Even  the  escort  cannot  stop  your  raids. 
And  ticklish  generals  curse  at  lousy  aids?. 

And  now,  farewell — the  time  may  come,  at  last, 

When  we  will  part, 
Then  Fame  will  tell  how  in  the  glorious  pn.-<t 

Thou  'st  done  thy  part — 

ilow  of  each  patriot  toil  thou  'st  borne  thy  share, 
For  where  the  army  was,  "  thou  sure  icert  there  /" 
Iy  THE  KIBI.P  NEAR  MARIETTA.  GA.,  June  15, 1864. 


The  clouds  are  white;  and  creamy. 

The  heavens  serenely  blue. 
My  thoughts,  reposed  and  dreamy. 

Are  turned  to  love  and  you. 
Beneath  the  azure's  glory. 

My  meltiug  spirit  moves. 
And  reads  a  wondrous  story 

Of  undivided  loves ! 


fifi  WAR     FLOWERS. 

Warm  glow  my  heated  faucies 

In  gold  and  purple  drest, 
And  heaven's  returning  glances 

Fire  my  loving  breast- 
All  nature  swims  in  glory. 

And  as  they  pass,  the  doves 
Relate  the  wondrous  story 

Of  undivided  loves ! 

I  think  and  I  remember — 

One  night,  thy  hand  in  mine, 
We  pledged — 'twas  in  December 

Oh  bright  the  stars  did  shine ! 
And  in  the  midnight's  glory, 

Each  twinkling  star  that  roves. 
Recalled  the  wondrous  story 

Of  undivided  loves ! 
TKESCITES.  ATLANTA,  August  13,1364. 


To  a  M-othei*,  on  the  Loss  of  her  Child. 

Why  should  the  beauteous  flowers  fade. 

Or  children  die  ? 
Why  should  all  light  be  merged  in  shade 

Beneath  the  sky  ? 


WAR    FLOWERS.  67 

A  mother's  joys,  a  mother's  tears, 

Are  they,  oh  Lord. 
As  idle  as  a  maiden's  fears 

Before  thy  word  ? 

Or  did  you  need  for  some  new  earth 

A  fresher  breath  ? 
Fate  gives  to  every  note  of  birth 

An  echo — Death  ! 

Bright  flowers  fade,  children  dio. 

But  they  return  all 
To  that  bright  realm  where  in  the  sky 
Spring  reigns  eternal ! 

Weep  mother,  let  your  sorrows  How. 

But  do  not  murmur. 
God  tries  his  loved  ones,  and  each  blow 

But  makes  them  firmer — 

Kach  evil  is  mixed  with  good,  your  child 

Is  now  an  angel  — 
Take  comfort  in  the  assurance  mild 

Of  God's  evangi-1. 

What  though  we  bleed'.'     Deep  sorrow  bring.* 

Peace  to  the  soul  ;— 
Each  Christian  tear  the  mourner  wina-s 

Nearer  the  goal ! 
ATIAWTA,  August  13,  1864. 


68  AVAR    KI.OWERS 

CHARGE    OF  THE    LOUISIANA  BRIGADE. 

AT  ATLANTA,  OA.,  JULY  28.  1864. 

Composed  of  Austin's  Sharpshooters,  the  14th  Lou 
isiana  Battalion,  and  the  1st,  4th,  13th,  16th,  19th, 
20th,  25th  and  30th  Louisiana  Regiments,  making 
in  all  about  eleven  hundred  men. 


On  the  28th  of  July,  18(U,  fiilison's  (formerly  Daii.  Adam's) 
Louisiana  Brigade,  were  onlored  to  charge  the  enemy's  line  of 
works  on  the  left  of  the  line.  They  marched  up  in  splendid  style, 
but  their  support  failing  them,  were  obliged  to  give  way  after  an 
hour  of  most  heroic  fighting,  within  forty  yards  of  the  enemy's 
works.  The  order  to  halt  \\;\a  u  misunderstanding,  and  did  not 
emanate  from  Gen.  Gibson,  than  whom  none  regretted  more  the 
fital  error  which  cost  the  lives  of  s<>  many  gallant  men.  The  brig 
ade  was  aligned  in  a  very  dense  chapparal,  and  orders  were  with 
difficulty  transmitted,  where  the  General  could  only  see  a  small 
portion  of  the  line,  and  the  uproar  of  the  fi>ht  was  deafening. 


Thunders  that  roll 
Mountains  and  rocks  among. 
Swell  up  my  lofty  song 

With  your  loud  chorus. 
Tell  of  shrill  battle  cries, 
Sing  of  the  brave  who  dies. 
Shout  and  immortal i/c 

Our  braves  for  us ! 

Numberless  stond  the  foes 
Waiting  in  grim  repose. 
When  loud  the  cry  arose 
On  the  line,  "  Forward  I  '• 


WAR    FLOWERS.  69 

And,  as  the  word  was  said. 
Stepped  up  the  bold  brigade. 
That  ne'er  a  step  has  made 
But  it  was  foe-ward ! 


Fierce  as  ten  thunder  storms 
Rushed  those  gray  uniforms, 
Strained  those  manly  forms 

In  the  race  deadly, 
Loud  rose  their  Southern  yell. 
Louder  than  song  can  tell, 
Anxious  each  heart,  full  well. 

For  the  fierce  medley ! 

And  as  the  ibeman  hailed 
That  flag  that  never  failed, 
Each  beating  bosom  quailed 

When  they  saw  beaming 
Forth  the  blue  cross  and  stars 
On  the  red  field  of  Mars 
Foremost  in  all  the  wars 

Furiously  gleaming ! 

Onward  through  shell  and  shot, 
Onward  and  wavering  not, 
Onward  through  tempests  hot 
Of  lead  and  fire, 


70  AVAR      FLO  \VER8. 

Marched  on  the  undaunted  flag. 
And  not  a  foot  did  lag 
As  went  the  glorious  rag 
To  the  foe  nigher ! 

Ours  now  the  glorious  field, 
For  'gan  the  foe  to  yield, 
E'en  left  the  prudent  shield 

Of  his  ditch  earth-bound. 
But,  as  we  neared  the  game, 
Cold  then,  the  summons  came. 
•'  Halt!  "  and  each  warlike  frame 
Quivered  with  rage  and  shame 

At  the  accursed  sound ! 

Yet  stopped  the  veteran  band 
Obedient  to  command. 
And  when  they  saw  us  stand 

.Soon  the  foe  rallied  : 
Now,  as  their  smoke  unfurled 
Tpwards,  and  wreath-like  curled. 
Hundreds  of  braves  were  hurled 

To  the  ground,  pallid  ! 

Fast  rolled  the  sheet  of  flume. 
Countless  the  bullets  came. 
Safely  their  rifle's  aim 
From  their  defences : 


WAR  FLOWERS.  71 

Stern  as  a  battered  wall 
Stood  our  grim  warriors  all, 
Doomed,  but  resigned  to  fall 
'Xeath  honor's  glance ! 

And  as  the  dead  were  strewn. 

'•  Down !''  came  the  order,  "  Down  !" 

But  with  a  sullen  frown, 

All  disobeyed — 
Stood  up,  unknown  or  noted. 
Each  man  as  if  there  rooted. 
Stood  up  to  death  devoted. 

All  tbe  brigade ! 

Oh !  'twas  a  wondrous  sight ! 
Heroes  all  in  that  fight — 
Heaven  itself  was  bright 

With  so  much  glory: — 
Only  an  angel's  lyre 
Burning  with  heavenly  fire 
Could  a  wild  song  respire 

Worthy  that  story ! 

Then  fell  th;  heroic  Shields. 
Foremost  in  martial  fields. 
And  only  then  he  yields 
tTp  his  torn  banner. 


72  SVAK      FLOWERS. 

You  grasped  it  as  be  fell. 
And  then  you  died,  oh  Bell. 
Breathing  a  fond  farewell 
To  Louisiana ! 

1  cannot  name  them  all — 
Freedom  that  saw  them  lull 
Will  on  her  altars  tall 

Their  deeds  immortal 
Write  with  the  eagle's  pinion-. 
Teaching  invading  minions 
How  fearless  Louisianian^ 

Cross  the  black  portal ! 

There  stood  they  likr  ;i  IOW«T. 
Laughed  at  the  iron  shower. 
Stood  an  eternal  hour 
With  smiling  laces. 
Then,  back,  with  sullen  brow. 
Marched  glorious  tlien  and  now. 
Half  of  their  baud  laid  low 

In  death's  embr:i<-'-  • 
ATLANTA.  UA.,  Angnst  17, 1864. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  73 

In   tlie   Soldiers'    Grrave-Yard. 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  there  they  rest 
In  line  of  battle  forever  drest, 
The  holy  dead,  the  patriots  blest 

Returned  to  their  mother's  womb  ; 
The  wild  birds  sing  on  the  branches  nigh. 
The  summer  breezes  around  them  sigh, 
But  hushed  is  their  Southern  battle  cry. 

Sealed  up  in  the  silent  tomb  ! 

Sternly  quiet,  as  if  arrayed 

For  the  murderous  shock  of  the  ambuscade. 

Or,  as  after  a  march  in  the  leafy  shade. 

In  deep  oblivion  sleeping — 
A  confused  murmur  around  their  graves 
Is  heard,  as  the  moan  of  the  ocean  waves, 
As  they  mournfully  sing  in  their  rock-bound  caves  : 

'Tis  the  echo  of  mothers  weeping ! 

They  came  here  in  silence,  one  by  one, 

To  sleep  in  peace  when  their  task  was  done — 

From  the  home  they  have  by  their  labors  won 

The  foe  will  exile  them  never  ; 
Their  loves  are  undying  now,  their  bliss 
Is  rapturous  as  an  eternal  kiss, 
And  the  ties  they  form  in  the  deep  abyss 

Xo  ruthless  hand  can  sever! 
10 


T4  WAR      FLO  AVERS. 

There  they  lie,  both  rich  and  poor, 

The  owner  of  land  and  the  homeless  boor. 

In  equality  joined  at  the  voiceless  door. 

Which  Liberty  opes  to  the  dead  ; 
With  life  has  departed  each  cankering  care. 
But  their  happiness,  purer,  still  is  there, 
And  their  graves  resound  thro'  the  midnight  air 

With  the  music  of  angels'  tread  ! 

They  will  inarch  no  mure;  thro'  the  starry  night 
To  rush  on  the  foe  at  the  dawn  of  light, 
Nor  experience  again  that  fierce  delight 

Which  heroes  in  battle  feel ; 
Their  bivouac  fires  are  all  gone  out, 
Mute  are  the  song  and  the  joyous  shout, 
The  yell  and  assault  on  the  strong  redoubt 

With  the  clashing  of  angry  steel  : 

t 

For  each  low  grave  there  are  weeping  eyes. 
A  fruitful  river  of  tears  and  sighs — 
There  are  none  so  humble  beneath  the  skies, 

But  love  and  are  loved  again  ; — 
It  is  fearful  to  think  of  the  separations. 
Of  the  broken  hearts  and  the  devastations 
That  will  rise  in  judgment  on  warring  nations 

That  pursue  the  example  of  Cain ! 


WAR    FLOWERS.  75 

A  fancy  comes  over  ray  musing  soul, 

I  think,  as  I  look  on  each  funeral  knoll, 

For  the  last  review,  when  the  drums  will  roll, 

On  the  day  of  God's  election, 
How  one  by  one  each  phantom  brigade 
Will  arise  in  garments  of  light  arrayed 
And  march  to  the  muster  where  souls  are  paid 

By  eternal  Resurrection ! 
ATLANTA,  GA.,  Angust  21, 1864. 


"-A.  Soldier--!N'ame   "Unknown." 

LINKS  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  INSCRIPTION  ON  A  GRAVE. 

What  is  glory  ?    A  perfume  whose  own  exhalations 

Itself  must  exhaust  in  the  end  ; 
Like  the  waves  in  a  calm,  all  earth-born  undulations 

In  solemn  eternity  blend  I 

What  cares  he,  the  martyr,  tho'  buried  unknown. 

So  he  rest  from  his  battle  fields  gory  ? 
Immortality  dwells  with  true  virtue  alone. 

And  not  in  the  vauntings  of  story  \ 

The  unknown  of  the  earth  have  a  name  in  the  skies 
Where  the  holy  are  radiant  with  beauty,— 

The  soldier  for  justice  who  suffers  and  dies 
Is  called  up  to  heaven  "  on  duty !" 
ATLANTA,  Aug.  19,  1864. 


76  WAR     FLOWERS. 

TO  MY  LITXJL.E:  COUSIN 

INSTEAD   OF  A  VALENTINK. 


Deai-  Mary,  listen  to  my  song, 
Advice  is  healthy  now  and  then  ; 
'Tis  friendship  now  that  wields  my  pen, 

And  purest  love  that  guides  my  tongue  ;  — 

You  may  not  understand  me  now, 
But  read  my  thoughts  in  after  years  — 
I  hope  and  pray  no  cause  for  tears 

Tween  now  and  then  will  cloud  your  brow  ! 

No  fears  distract  your  tranquil  mind  — 
You're  young  and  artless,  good  and  pretty, 
You  promise  to  be  wise  and  witty, 

Nor  other  beauties  leave  behind  ;  — 

Take  care  how  you  enjoy  those  graces  ; 
There's  danger  in  each  precious  gift,  — 
Misfortune's  hand  is  strong  and  swift. 

And  good  with  evil  runs  tight  races  ! 

Shut  not  your  heart  to  thoughts  of  good, 
Be  kind"  and  generous  and  true  — 
Be  fearless,  yet  be  prudent  too  ; 

If  Eve  had  watched,  Eden  had  stood  ! 


WAR   FLOWERS.  77 

Ne'er  let  your  tongue  belie  your  heart, 
Nor  e'en  your  blue  eyes  tell  a  story  : 

Candor  and  truth  to  souls  impart 
The  radiance  mild  of  heaven's  glory  ! 

Crave  nothing  which  you  cannot  reach, 
For  disappointments  chill  the  heart — 
Contented  play  your  humble  part, 

The  little  birds  lltat  lesson  teach ! 

Do  not  be  selfish — fear  no  cost 

When  others  want  what  you  can  spare — 

The  kindest  is  the  fairest  fair, 
And  richest  she  who  gives  the  most. 

Hope,  love,  believe — in  Paradise 
Such  are  the  joys  that  angels  sing — 
With  these  an  ever-budding  spring 

Will  paint  its  sunlight  in  your  eyes ! 

Dance,  laugh  and  sing — but  never  flirt ; 

Keep  all  your  heart  and  love  for  one— 

There's  profanation  in  such  fun — 
And  lying  lips  cause  sorest  hurt ! 

Keep  your  young  heart  in  fullest  bloom, — 
For  who 's  it  cares  for  faded  roses  ? 
The  heart  whose  lid  each  one  uncloses, 

Unworthy,  loses  all  perfume ! 


78  WAR   FLOWERS. 

When  you  grow  up,  sweet  cousin  Mary, 
You  will  be  loved  and  you  may  love — 

Of  your  affections  then  be  chary 
Until  your  lovers  truth  you  prove; — 

Then  let  your  heart  run  fetter  free — 
There's  joy  in  heaven  when  true  hearts  love, 
Celestial  harmonies  above 

Answer  their  souls'  ecstatic  glee ! 

Your  life  is  white  and  spotless  yet, 
Let  doubt  or  sin  pollute  it  never — 
Keep  childhood's  innocence  forever — 

Pure  hearts  have  nothing  to  forget! 

Endeavor  still  a  child  to  be, 
And  God  will  call  you  to  his  side— 
For  Jesus  said,  who  never  lied. 

Let  little  children  come  to  me ! 

I  may  not  see  your  beauties  bloom, 
Wish  not  to  live  to  see  them  fade  ; 
Perhaps  ere  yet  the  bullet's  made 

That  soon  may  seal  the  soldier's  doom. — 

But,  Mary,  whether  far  or  near, 
You  want  a  friend,  oh,  think  of  me, — 
I  do  not  ask  for  much,  you  sec. 
In  life  a  smile,  in  death  a  tear ! 
MiCON,  GA.,  February  18, 1865. 


WAR    FLO  AVERS.  79 


A  REMINISCENCE. 

The  link  is  broke—  the  boat  is  gone, 
When  shall  we  meet  who  part  in  tears  '. 

Ah!  meetings  are  of  fleeting  minutes. 
And  separations  are  of  years! 

Ah  !  the  cruel,  cruel  steam  ! 

Ah,  the  rapid  flying  hours  ! 
Bliss,  too  swiftly  fading  dream, 

Transient  as  the  April  showers  ! 

Shall  we  ever  meet  again, 

Who  part  with  many  tears  '' 
Will  the  visions  of  the  past 

Light  again  the  coming  years  '.' 

Still  the  cruel  boat  is  gliding 
Calmly  on  the  sullen  waters.  . 

From  me,  with  my  soul  is  riding 
On  the  cold  and  heartless  waters  ! 

And  the  music  of  the  paddles 

With  its  mournful  mouotone 
That  is  gone  now—  with  her  vanished, 

With  my  heart  and  hopes  are  flown  ! 


80  WAR     FLOWER.*. 

And  alone  the  mocking  waters. 

Seem  to  laugh  upon  my  sorrows, 
Seem  to  pity  and  to  mock  me. 

Who  depend  on  false  to-morrows! 

Now  the  boat  seems  but  an  atom 
Trembling  near  the  great  unknown. 

Smiling  as  it  disappears — 
Leaving  me.  oh  God,  alone ! 

Strain  you  now  my  fixed  eyes — 
Your  endeavors  will  be  vain  ; 

'Fore  you,  water  and  the  skies, 
In  me  solitude  and  pain ! 

And  the  moaning  of  the  waters, 
Murm'ring  still  and  moaning  ever 

To  my  loan,  despairing  spirit 
Whispers  :  "  Now,  forever,  never!" 

MOBILE,  April  5,  1865. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  81 

THE 


He  slung  his  rifle  on  his  back, 

He  shook  his  locks  of  raven  black, 

That  Hilda  loved  to  see, 
And  idly  laughing  would  compare 
With  her  own  tresses  soft  and  fail- 
As  moonbeams  on  the  sea ! 

He  started  for  the  mountain  height, 
Nor  waited  he  for  dawn  of  light 

Or  rise  of  grey-eyed  morn, 
His  closely  fitting  suit  bespoke 
A  graceful  frame,  yet  strong  as  oak. 

His  eyes  were  dark  with  scorn ; 

With  scorn,  for  Frantx  did  hate  the  laws 
That  held  like  vulture  in  its  claws 

His  roaming  spirit  wild, 
The  laws  that  bade  him  spurn  his  rifle, 
The  noble  thoughts  of  freedom  stifle,— 

Him,  the  bold  mountain  child ! 

The  laws  that  kept  the  chamois  shaggy. 
Secure  upon  the  mountains  craggy 

From  rifles  that  were  poor. 
11 


82  WAR      FLOWER?. 

To  serve  as  play  things  in  the  hands 

Of  those  who  ruled  the  rocky  lands 

Where  trudged  the  hopeless  boor  : 

His  eyes  were  dark  with  scorn,  his  heart 
Was  black  with  storms,  yet  bright  in  part 

With  love's  pervading  ray. 
That  like  the  sun,  on  cot  or  hall. 
With  equal  beams  doth  shine  for  all 

Upon  life's  great  highway ! 

He  loved — young  Hilda  was  the  maid 
His  restless  heart  with  joy  obeyed, 

A  creature  fair  and  mild, — 
And  on  that  day  the  youthful  pair 
Were  to  be  joined  in  wedlock  rare. 

There  in  the  rocky  wild  : 

In  the  lone  glen,  beneath  a  rock 

That  looked  like  some  grey  friar's  frock 

Or  like  an  angry  frown 
Of  earth,  they  were  to  live  and  love 
Should  the  dark  fates  that  rule  above 

Not  crush  their  wishes  down  ; 

Should  they  t    For  fates  are  cruel  sisters 
Who  love  to  quench  the  light  that  glitters 
Even  with  the  purest  ray. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  83 

They  smite  the  king  within  his  palace, 
And  change  to  murkiest  night  the  solace 
That  cheers  a  happy  day ! 

Frantz  had  a  spirit  deep  and  free 
As  waves  upon  the  stormy  sea, 

He  was  a  Wildshiitz  brave, 
And  would  not  quench  his  mind  of  fire. 
Not  for  the  king's  or  heaven's  ire. 

Not  for  his  soul  to  save ! 

A  path  of  danger  was  his  road. 
For  cruel  was  the  forest  code, 

And  keen  the  forster's  eyes 
Who  ranged  Bavaria's  forests  wide — 
Oh,  ne'er  a  hunter  left  his  bride 

And  left  her  void  of  sighs ! 

Poor  Hilda  prayed  the  eve  in  woe 
He  should  not  to  the  mountain  go 

For  that  her  soul  did  burn 
With  thoughts  of  evil  bode,  and  oh ! 
She  feared  that  now  for  him  to  £0. 

\V;i«  never  to  return  ! 

For  in  the  night  her  spirit  dreamed 
About  her  lover,  pale  he  seomod 
And  fearful  to  behold, 


84  WAR     FLOWERS. 

All  ghostly  white,  o'erbloodied  all. 
And  on  his  limbs  a  mournful  pall 
Dark  prophecy  foretold ! 

"  Oh,  Frantz !  depart  not  in  the  inorniner. 
Think  of  thy  loving  Hilda's  warning. 

Think  of  niy  bosom's  fears. 
And  that  I  shall  be  yours  to-morrow. 
Oh,  give  me  not  this  chance  of  sorrow- - 

Think  of  thy  mother's  tenv<  !  " 

Her  voice  fell  sweet  upon  his  ear. 
The  evening  sky  was  soft  and  clear, 

The  pitying  moon  shone  bright, 
And  Hilda  seemed,  whilst  praying  there. 
A  spirit  made  of  light  and  air, 

In  her  long  robes  of  white ! 

Frant/'  loving  heart,  like  mountain  snow 
Beneath  the  winter's  mid-day  glow. 

With  such  words  melted  nigh, 
But  like  the  angry  storms  of  winter 
Did  thoughts  of  danger  fled  from,  enter 

And  cloud  his  beaming  eye  ! 

•;  Think  of  my  woe,"  sobbed  forth  the  maid  ; 
"  Think  of  my  fame,"  the  hunter  said. 
"  For  should  I  shrink  from  danger. 


WAR   FLOWERS.  85 

What  shame  would  sit  upon  my  brow. 
And  they,  my  bold  companions  now. 
Would  scorn  the  timid  ranger! 

;  No,  I  must  go  upon  the  mountain. 
To  meet  the  chamois  by  the  fountain 

With  powder  and  with  ball ; 
And  ere  the  sun  illume  the  east. 
To  grace  our  merry  wedding  feast 
The  fattest  one  shall  fall !  " 

Young  Hilda  wept,  but  spake  no  more. 
Like  waves  that  lash  upon  the  shore, 

The  sorrows  smote  her  breast. 
And  that  night  as  she  went  to  sleep. 
Her  bosom  like  the  furrowed  deep 

Upheaved  in  troubled  rest. 

n. 

Why  sounds  the,  bell  in  doleful  dirge. 
And  moan  the  people  like  a  surge 

O'er  heartless  rocks  prevailing  V 
Why  sob  the  echoes  near  and  far  ? 
Why  the  black  pall  and  funeral  car. 

And  matrons  loud  bewailinu •'.' 

A  youth  is  dead,  u  mother  childless! 
A  lovely  girl  on  earth  is  friendless ! 
The  rjreat  have  willed  it  so  : 


86  WAR    FLOWFHS. 

A  funeral  hath  replaced  a  wedding  : 
Frantz  is  no  more,  oh,  what  a  shedding 
Of  tears  and  streams  of  woe ! 

Why  stamps  with  joy  the  loathing  earth, 
And  rubs  his  bloody  hands  for  mirth 

The  for'ster  in  his  hall  ? 
Why  plays  the  smile  of  satisfaction 
Around  his  lips,  in  cruel  action. 

And  lauglis  his  bosom  tall  ? 

The  mountain  grass  is  red  with  gore. 
The  chamois  roam  and  fear  no  more 

The  whistling  ball  of  lead  : 
Hurrah !  the  for'ster  never  misses 
When  in  the  air  his  bullet  hisses 

Aimed  at  the  Wildsliiilx.'  head  ! 

Ml. 

The  fir  trees  and  the  rocks  among 
Is  heard  a  low  and  plaintive  sonsr 

Upon  the  mountain  steep. 
And  as  it  glides  aloii£  the  trees. 
It  seems  a  wind,  a  sigh.  ;v  Uree/r 

That  urges  hearts  to  \\<v]> : 

The  voice  that  sings  the  song  is  sweet. 
The  hand  of  melancholy  beat 
A  measure  to  its  rhyme. 


WAR    FLOWERS. 

'Tis  made  of  incoherent  phrases 
Like  clouds  that  rush  in  various  mazes. 
Or  different  bells  that,  chime  ; 

The  ear  that  hears  it  on  the  hill 
When  all  around  is  hushed  and  still 

Believes  it  is  a  fairy, 
Or  northern  winds  that  sighing  pass. 
Kissing  the  tall  and  waving  grass 

Upon  a  western  prairie  ; 

But  'tis  no  fairy  singing  there, 
'Tis  not  the  sighs  of  winter  air 

That  wild  song  of  dejection  : 
Tis  a  yonng  maniac  with  fair  tresses 
Who  weeps  and  on  her  bosom  presses 

A  lover's  recollection. 

'Tis  Hilda  mourning  for  her  lover — 
AVell  may  she  mourn  and  wander  ever ! 

Blow  on  ye  killing  blasts — 
The  life  is  short  that  sorrow  spins  ; 
The  crown  of  light  a  lover  wins. 

Whose  love  forever  lasts ! 


88  WAR     FLOWERS. 

TO  A.  fltlEND  OIP  ONJii  \VKEli. 


This  world  is  of  shallow  foundation. 

Friends  meet  like  a  passing  of  shadows 
They  come  and  they  go  in  rotation. 

Like  sunlight  and  cloud  o'er  the  meadows  ; 

Hospitality  smiled  ou  your  threshold. 

I  entered  and  Friendship  was  there- 
Such  memories  never  grow  old. 

They  will  follow  my  soul  everywhere  ! 

1  would  fain  have  remained  somewhat  longer. 

Seen  more  of  you.  regretted  you  more. 
But  Fate  than  man's  wishes  is  stronger. 

E'er  behind  us  there  closes  a  door  ! 

None  can  say  :  "  I've  a  friend  now  forever. 

Here's  my  home  and  the  nest  of  my  loves'' 
There's  a  hand  whose  domain  is  to  sever  — 

Time's  wheel  crashes  all  as  it  moves  ! 

(Jh  Time  !  cruel  moments  so  fleeting  ! 

You  run  off  with  our  most  happy  hours, 
But  in  pity  for  hearts  sadly  beating, 

You  respect  the  poor  soul's  faded  flowers  ! 

Yes,  thank  God,  kindly  hearts  can  remember. 

And  though  met  with  and  lost  in  a  day, 
Perfumed  and  far  sweeter  than  amber 

Is  the  memory  of  friends  far  away  ! 
COLUMBUS,  GA.,  March  6,  1865. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  89 

A.  VALENTINE. 


Love  dwells  within  your  sunny  smiles, 
And  heaven  in  your  heart — 

There's  so  much  wit  in  your  blue  eyes 
They  make  each  lover  smart; 

The  music  of  your  silver  tones 
Such  high  success  obtains, 

Ulysses'  wax  had  not  been  proof 
Against  its  melting  strains ! 

Each  movement  in  you  is  so  kUliwj. 

The  work  of  all  the  graces ! 
I'd  fear  much  less  from  Yankee  guns 

A  vottey  at  ten  paces ! 

But  Fortune  favors  still  the  brave — 
I  love,  tho'  death's  behind ! 

If  Cupid  cannot  see,  I'll  e'en 
With  Cupid  go  it  blind  ! 

And  if  you  don't  accept  my  suit, 

Remaining  still  a  miss, 
The  death  I'll  seek  on  battle-fields 

Can  never  come  amiss  ! 

MACON,  February  14.  18(55. 
12 


90  WAR      FLOWERS. 

THE    DYING   MOTHER. 

Am :  "  Scenes  that  are  brightest.'' 

My  son,  I  am  dying. 

Where  are  you  now  ? 
Said  a  mother  lying 

Death  on  her  brow — 
Mournful  replying 

In  whispers  low, 
The  winds  were  sighing — 

Where  are  you  now? 

How  he  will  miss  me. 

My  boy,  my  pride ! 
Come,  daughters,  kiss  me, 

Cling  to  my  side  ; 
Tell  him  his  mother 

Blessed  him  and  died — 
Where  is  your  brother, 

My  boy,  my  pride ! 

My  son,  I  am  dying — 

Where  are  you  now  ? 
Where  shots  are  flying  ? 

Where  winters  blow? 
How  the  mists  deepen 

Over  my  brow — 
God,  the  skies  open ! 

I  see  you  now ! 
DALTOX,  GA.,  December  24,  1864. 


WAR   FLOWERS.  91 

SONG. 

AIR  :  "  We  wont  go  home  till  morning.'' 

I'll  tell  you  just  now  what  I  think,  boys. 

In  troubles  who  wish  to  be  gay, 
There's  nothing  so  good  as  a  drink,  boys, 
To  drive  dull  care  away. 
CHORUS  :  Its  a  way  we  have  in  the  army,    (fer.) 
To  drive  dull  care  away. 

You  may  talk  of  religion  and  quote,  boys, 

Philosophy's  powerful  sway, 
But  drinking's  the  best  antidote,  boys, 

To  drive  dull  care  away ! 

Like  democracy,  stations  it  levels, 

Preserving  the  flesh  from  decay, 
It  gives  wit,  it  destroys  the  blue  devils, 

And  drives  dull  care  away ! 

It's  a  remedy  'gainst  every  ill,  boys. 

It  enlivens  the  gloomiest  day, 
It  gives  courage  to  cowards  and  will,  boys, 

E'er  drive  dull  care  away  ! 

Of  all  blessings  that  come  from  above,  boys. 

It's  the  cheapest  and  best  in  its  way. 
It  is  sure  with  tobacco  and  love,  boys, 

To  drive  dull  care  away  ! 


92  WAR    FLOWERS. 

Then  never  let  whiskey  or  gin,  boys. 
From  your  presence  untasted  away, 

For  without  it,  you  cannot  begin,  boys, 
To  drive  dull  care  away ! 
CHORUS  :  It's  a  way  we  have  in  the  army,  (fer.) 


MY   CRAVAT. 

It  is  blue  as  the  heaven's  own  splendor. 

With  a  fillet  of  white  all  around  it, 
Tis  the  color  of  true  faith  and  candor 

With  its  own  spotless  fingers  has  bound  it— 

Tis  the  work  of  an  angel  or  peri. 

With  eyes  of  intelligent  azure — 
With  a  voice  like  the  song  of  a  fairy, 

And  a  hoart — who  will  win  such  a  treasure  ? 

When  I  think  of  the  hands  that  have  made  it, 
How  delicate,  kind,  white  and  pure, 

I'd  be  willing  in  death  to  parade  it, 
And  be  choked  with  delight  I  am  sure ! 

Bonds  of  steel  may  restrain  in  despair  one, 
But  the  soul  such  vain  fetters  disdains — 
A  blue  silken  tie  from  the  fair  one 

Is  the  strongest  of  possible  chains ! 
COLUMBUS,  GA.,  March  7,  1865. 


WAR     FLOWERS.  93 


FOOT-BALL 

AT  SPRING  HILL  COLLEGE. 

Oh  !  goddess  fair,  tune  tliou  my  soft  harp-strings. 

And  make  them  rough  to  sing  of  warlike  things  — 

Tell  me  the  names  of  all  the  heroes  strong 

Who  joined  the  foot-ball  game's  tempestuous  throng. 

Oh  !  tell  me  those  who  fell,  and  say  which  side 

Turned  in  its  favor  battle's  martial  tide  ! 

The  Club,  of  course,  the  warlike  club  was  there  — 

Immortal  Tom,  Alceus,  Marmion  fair, 

And  you.  oh  Heidelberger,  powerful  ana, 

A  rock  you  stood  amid  the  game's  alarm  ! 

The  boys,  by  lot.  their  equal  force  divide 

Between  the  Spartan  and  the  Theban  side  — 

The  Club  was  spartan,  worth  the  Spartans  old, 

Arminius  too,  and  dark-eyed  Oscar  bold, 

And  other  warriors,  live  alike  to  fame, 

On  Spartan  side  enrolled  a  deathless  name  — 

But  who  the  heroes  of  the  Theban  band? 

Th?  undying  Phosphor,  named  the  "  Mighty  Hand," 

Swift-footed  Frank,  and  young  Achilles  sweet, 

Sebastian  proud,  who  measures  seven  feet, 

And  countless  others,  famous  in  the  field, 

Who,  bred  to  battle,  scorned  the  prize  to  yield  — 

The  sides  are  ranged,  the  warriors  all  arrayed. 

With  hopes  of  glory  their  great  hearts  are  swayed  — 


94  WAR     FLOWERS. 

A  moment  all  was  silent,  all  was  still. 
Save  withered  leaves  that  rustled  on  the  hill. 
As  when  two  clouds  by  heaven's  magic  wrought, 
Meet  high  in  air  with  awful  thunder  fraught, 
They  stand  awhile,  till  sounds  the  signal  blast, 
And  at  the  shock  all  nature  thrills  aghast ! 
Thus  stood  the  boys,  when  from  the  Spartan  crew, 
The  valiant  Marmion  bold  defiance  threw  : 

•'  Are  you  ready  to  meet  the  Spartan  band, 
To  join  with  them  in  combat  hand  to  hand, 
Are  you  ready  ?"    The  Thebans  thus  defied, 
"  To  fight,  always,  but  ne'er  to  yield,"  replied — 
"  Then  have  your  boon  and  fight !"  did  Marmion  cry, 
And  fast  he  hurled  the  foot-ball  to  the  sky; 
High  sped  the  ball  by  Marmion's  fury  sent, 
A  wild  halloo  the  blue-domed  heavens  rent, 
Then  rushed  the  boys  the  contest  to  pursue — 

Who  first  was  he  among  the  Spartans  true 
Who,  Theban  warriors  boldly  overthrew? 
"Twas  thou,  oh  Heidelberger,  Spartan  heart, 
Thou,  skilled  to  chase  the  swiftly-running  hart, 
Who,  Frank  so  bold,  o'erthrewest  in  his  might 
And  broke  his  strength,  the  rash  and  hapless  wight ! 
For,  Theban  true,  he  caught  the  flying  ball. 
Just  then  thy  arm  compelled  his  form  to  fall- 
He  fell,  and  earth  resounded  with  the  shock. 
So  shakes  the  mountain /neath  the  tumbling  rock. 


WAR    FLOWERS.  95 

The  Thebans  mourned,  but  Heidel  running  fast. 
Still  held  the  ball,  voluminous  and  vast ; 
By  him  you  fell,  oh  Harry,  youth  so  fair. 
You  had  a  will  to  do,  a  soul  to  dare, 
But  weak  your  arm  to  Heidelbergers  hand. 
You  fell,  a  beauteous  flower  on  the  strand — 
But  who  will  stop  the  hero's  powerful  strides 
As,  dashing  on,  he  terror-dealing  rides  ? 
With  him  Arminius.  youth  exceeding  strong, 
With  thin  mustache,  with  silken  curls  and  long, 
To  victory  rides,  pursuing  far  the  ball. 
Him  swiftly  follows  proud  Alceus  tail- 
But  see  Sebastian's  giant  form  headlong. 
Come  rushing  forth  to  join  the  battling  throng— 
He  comes,  he  joins,  and  Heidelberger  falls ! 
Oh,  silk-haired  youth,  thou'lt  ne?er  boast  in  thy  halls 
Of  matchless  laurels  on  the  tented  field, 
Sebastian's  arm  compelled  thy  strength  to  yield ! 

Oh!  Marmion,  then,  where  was  thy  dauntless  might? 
Immortal  Tom,  why  lived  you  for  the  sight? 
Alceus  bold,  the  club,  the  club  is  down, 
Proud  Heidelberger's  length  on  earth  is  thrown. 
Come  to  the  rescue,  save  the  doubtful  game 
Or  hide  thy  head  beneath  thy  hands  of  shame  ? 

But  see  the  Marmion's  anger  flashing  eyes — 
See  how  to  vengeance  lightning-like  he  flies — 


96  WAR     FLOWER?. 

Alceus,  Tom,  with  Marmion  start  amain, 
T'  avenge  the  club,  or  die  on  battle  plain ; 
Oh !  then  there  was  so  mad  a  battle  sound 
On  Spring  Hill's  classic  hero-bearing  mound, 
It  seemed  as  fiends  had  pealed  the  battle  yell, 
And  rose  in  arms  the  chivalry  of  hell ! 
Like  arrows  from  the  Cretan  archer's  bow. 
The  raging  friends  to  battle  onward  go— 
They  fly,  they  reach  the  mingled  scene  of  fray, — 
Oh  !  ne'er  the  sun  beheld  such  glorious  day ! 
At  their  fell  shock,  four  warriors  measured  the  field- 
Yet  still  Sebastian,  valiant,  will  not  yield. 
He  holds  the  ball,  back'd  by  our  Theban  foes — 
In  Marmion's  heart  enkindled  fury  rose. 
With  one  slight  turning  of  his  dext'rous  feet 
He  felled  to  earth  Achilles'  form  so  sweet. 
And  as  the  rose  that  lives  a  summer  day, 
At  eve  expires,  perfumed  it  dies  away, 
So,  young  Achilles,  gentle  summer  rose, 
Fell  harshly  trampled  by  unpitying  foes — 
And  then  you  fell,  oh!  valiant  Macatchoo. 
Beneath  Tom's  arm,  and  fell  Ignatius  too — 
But  Spartan  heroes  on  the  earth  are  strewn, 
Like  withered  leaves  when  autumn's  breath  has  blown. 
They  fell  beneath  Sebastian's  powerful  arm, 
Nor  could  Alceus  save  their  forms  from  harm — 
They  fell  like  brave  men  on  the  battle  ground. 
And  falling,  earth  was  startled  by  the  sound ! 


WAR    FLOWERS.  97 

The  Theban  warriors  on  the  striving  plain. 
'Neath  Oscar's  hand  fell  thick  as  April  rain. 
As  golden  harvests  when  the  grain  is  ripe, 
Fall  'neath  the  sickle  in  the  laborer's  gripe. 
They  fell  beneath  the  youth's  resistless  blow. 
Their  backs  all  down,  their  faces  to  the  foe ! 

But  see  the  ball  hurled  from  the  battling  crowd  ; 
The  boys  pursue  with  trampling  footsteps  loud — 
So,  ere  the  storm,  the  rumbling  thunder  far, 
Calls  clouded  heaven  to  black  and  lurid  Avar-  - 
And—"  keep  it  up !  •'  is  heard  the  Theban  cry  ; 
"  Kick  down,  or  die !"  the  Spartans'  bold  reply — 
The  ball's  in  front,  the  warriors  all  pursue, 
But  Phosphor's  strength  the  battle  day  shall  rue — 
For  swiftly  dashing  past  the  Theban  throng 
The  reckless  hero  dares  Alceus  strong : — 
Alceus  saw,  his  wakeful  ire  rose  high, 
Shrill  rang  in  air  his  dreaded  battle  cry — 
He  ran  as  flashes  lightning  on  the  storm, 
Woe  to  the  youth  who  meets  that  rushing  form  ; 
The  warriors  rushed,  hell  trembled  as  they  rode. 
And  quaked  the  monarch  of  the  dark  abode ! 
They  met — oh !  then,  where  was  the  Phosphor  bold. 
The  "  Mighty  Hand  ?  "    Upon  the  sand  he  rolled- 
He  fell  as  falls  the  deeply  rooted  oak 
When  loud  the  woodsman  plies  his  heavy  stroke, 


13 


98  \VAR     FLOWERS. 

He  reeled,  he  tottered,  then  to  earth  he  fell. 
The  sound  awoke  the  direful  fiends  of  hell ! 
Then  Tom,  you  fell  beneath  a  Theban's  hand- 
Your  form  adorned  fair  Spring  Hill's  golden  sand  : 
You're  down,  but  cheered  the  Spartans  as  you  fell. 
Your  shout  swelled  up  the  raging  battle  yoll — 

Who  overthrew  th'  immortal  strength  of  Tom '' 

'Twas  one  who  from  fair  Canton  town  had  come 

T'  enjoy  the  latin  poets'  deathless  names, 

And  show  his  might  in  Spring  Hill  foot-ball  games  : 

'Twas  mighty  Sherrod — high  his  head  he  bears. 

His  golden  hair  in  silken  curls  he  wears, 

His  sinews  steel,  his  heart  is  passing  bold. 

He  boasts  descent  from  Pelopidas  old — 

But  Marmion  and  Alceus  both  unite 

To  wreak  their  vengeance  on  the  Sherrod's  might, 

And  save  the  honor  of  the  club  in  fight — 

They  rush  on  valiant  Sherrod  raging  high. 

They  meet,  and  Canton  maidens  loud  will  sigh. 

For  heavenly  Sherrod  on  the  ground  lies  low. 

Hurled  from  his  feet  by  warlike  Spartan  foe, 

Bathed  in  the  blood  which  trickles  from  his  nose. 

Long  will  the  Theban  feel  Alceus'  blows ! 

But  while  engaged  thus,  Alceus  and  his  friend. 
From  Cantonrs  brows  the  laurels  green  to  rend. 
Ar'minius,  swift  as  sparrow  on  the  wing, 
Seizes  the  ball,  then  with  a  sudden  spring 


WAR    FLOWERS.  99 

He  leaps  in  air  and  kicks  the  volume  round  - 
The  ball  emits  a  hollow,  moaning  sound. 
Obedient  to  the  Spartan's  skillful  care, 
It  rushes  whistling  thro'  th'  opposing  air. 
Then  as  a  shell  by  blazing  powder  thrown 
High  in  mid  air.  when,  rapid,  it  has  flown. 
Describes  a  curving  parabola  there. 
So  turns  the  ball  its  bending  course  and  fair  : 
It  falls,  and  far  behind  the  Theban  base, 
With  many  a  bound  it  stops  its  headlong  race — 
Thus,  in  the  wold,  by  hunter's  arrow  struck. 
High  bounds  in  air  the  branch  adorned  buck. 
Some  hundred  yards  with  many  a  leap  it  flies 
Then,  drained  of  blood,  with  tearful  eyelids  dies— 
The  victor  Spartan's  loudly  cheer  the  game. 
Extoll  to  heaven  Arminius'  glorious  name, 
The  Theban  warriors  mournful  hang  their  heads, 
And  sigh  t'  enshroud  their  shame  in  drowsy  beds — 
The  Spartan  hero  bears  the  victor's  prize, 
A  gorgeous  foot-ball  of  prodigious  size. 
With  dexterous  kick  he  speeds  the  ball  on  high. 
With  many  groans  it  dares  the  glaring  sky, 
Then  seek  the  feast,  the  friendly  foemen  all, 
With  three  hurrahs  for  Spartan  skill  at  ball ! 


100  WAK     FLOWERS. 


A  PARAPHRASE  . 

Twas  night,  and  all  was  silent  on  the  hill. 
In  darkness  was  enveloped  Israel's  host, 
And  Jeptha's  daughter  in  the  gloom  of  night, 
Thus  prayed  and  M-ept  her  most  untimely  death  : 

The  youthful  vine  each  day  enjoys  the  sun, 
The  infant  corn  fears  not  the  reaper's  blow, 
Most  flowers  e'en  will  live  more  days  than  one. 
But  as  a  rose  to-day  I  live  and  die  ! 

My  comrades,  when  I  shall  be  laid  in  earth. 
Will  hear  their  children's  gay  and  playful  call  : 
Their  son  as  manly  as  his  father  see  — 
But  I  must  die  in  life's  primeval  bloom  ! 
When  old  age  comes,  their  parents  worn  and  weak. 
In  their  sweet  arms  will  lay  time-weary  limbs, 
Will  die  in  peace,  with  children  weeping  'round. 
Yet  childless  mine  :  alas  !  to-day  I  die  ! 

Oh,  thou  !  who  nearest  maidens'  mournful  notes, 
Behold  my  father's  tears,  arrest  their  stream  ; 
On  him  bestow,  with  compensating  hand. 
The  happy  days  which  thou  hast  snatched  from  me; 
Oh,  then,  Almighty  God  !  I'll  happy  die  ! 


WAR   FLOWERS.  101 

BLANCHE. 

When  music  with  melodious  voice 

Speaks  to  my  dreaming  soul, 
And  pleasure  bids  my  heart  rejoice, 

To  drain  the  sparkling  bowl, 
I  think  of  one  with  lustrous  eyes. 

Brighter  than  solar  beams. 
And  thoughts  of  bliss  within  me  riw 

That  smile  upon  my  dreams. 

When  shines  the  sun  and  skies  look  gay. 

Or  drops  the  winter  rain, 
When  clouds  obscure  the  summer  day 

I  think  of  her  again  ; 
Dost  think  of  him  who,  since  we  met. 

Has  always  thought  of  you  ? 
Twere  madness  to  believe  it,  yet, 

•Twere  blissful  madness  too ! 

Now  war's  alarums  wring  the  air 
And  valor  smiles  on  death  ; 

And  youths  to  myrtle  blossoms  fail- 
Prefer  the  laurel  wreath, 

But  when  sweet  Peace  from  heaven  above 
Brings  back  the  olive  branch, 

Oh !  let  me  hope  the  soldier's  love 
Will  move  the  heart  of  Blanche ! 


102  WAR      FLOWERS. 

CONQUERED, 

Like  the  bird  who  sings  at  midnight 

I  am  lone, 
And  the  burden  of  my  song's  flight 

Is  a  groan ! 
Like  the  flames  that  sparkless  languish 

Burns  my  soul, 
Round  my  heart  the  waves  of  anguish 

Sullen  roll. 

For  1  once  believed  and  now 

I  despair — 
For  my  hopes  are  lying  low. 

Stark  and  bare ! 
For  I  fought  the  glorious  battle. 

Freedom's  fight, 
Hearing  through  its  smoke  and  rattle 

Words  of  light ; 
And  the  right  was  crushed  and  broken 

At  my  feet, 
And  the  words  of  light  a  token 

Of  deceit ! 

Oh!  we  lead  a  life  of  sorrow 

And  of  lies ! 
Who  can  say :  I  see  to-morrow 

In  the  skies  ? 


WAK    FLOWERS.  103 

Who  caii  say  my  love  is  certain. 

Or  iny  hate  ? 
Who  can  lift  the  heavy  curtain 

Of  his  fate  ? 
Who  can  say  who  tastes  of  bliss, 

>Tis  forever  ? 
Where's  the  pair  when  spent  the  kiss 

Did  not  sever? 
Where's  the  day  that  was  not  swallowed 

Up  by  night  ? 
Where  the  faith  that  issued  hallowed 

From  the  fight '.' 

Yes,  I've  seen  my  comrades  bleeding 

Like  a  rain. 
With  their  crimson  gashes  pleading 

All  in  vain ! 
I  have  seen  the  flag  deserted 

In  its  need, 
"While  the  foe's  exultant  flirted 

In  its  stead : 
And  I've  seen  the  shameless  traitors. 

False  and  hollow, 
Fawning  on  their  country's  hater- 

For  a  dollar ! 
Seen  the  freedom  that  I  cherish 

Bound  with  ropes. 
And  I  could  not  even  perish 

With  my  hopes ! 


ERRATA. 

Page  60,  last  stanza,  second  line, 
And  moves  the  hostile  /*«.<?/. 

Page  63,  first  stanza,  fifth  line, 
Then  why  should  man  despise  thy  equal  form ' 

Page  71,  first  stanza,  fourth  line. 
'Xeath  honor's  glances. 

Page  75,  A  Soldier — Name  unknown, 
Lines  suggested  by  the  abore  inscription,  He. 

Page  76,  third  stanza,  first  line, 

No  fears  disturb  your  tranquil  mind. 

Page  70,  third  stanza,  second  lino, 

We  who  part  with  many  tear?. 

Page  80,  last  stanza,  third  line, 

To  my  lone  despairing  spirit. 


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